Deep Deliverance: The Deep Series, Book 3 (16 page)

C
hapter Twenty-Three

When Adin came to he was still on the floor where he’d fallen. Everything hurt. Nausea roiled in his gut, and his mouth filled with saliva. He was too much of a coward to open his eyes and look around. He wanted to listen first. To see if he could tell where he was without getting kicked in the head again.

All he heard was shouting, grunting, footsteps on concrete, and from somewhere a long way off, rap music on a tinny music player. The scents were indescribable. Vampires and humans. Waste, sweat, blood. Men and women.

Lots of them.

Jail.

He was in prison.

He had no idea how he’d gotten there or why, but he was in some kind of jail, and he wasn’t alone…

“I know you’re awake,” said a voice from somewhere above him.

Was it the same man who’d kicked him?
Stay quiet,
Adin thought.
Stay silent and listen.

“Your aspect changed as soon as you regained consciousness. You might as well get up.”

Adin resisted for a minute, but then figured what the hell? Better to face the devil on one’s feet. He pushed himself up enough to see around him. There were two men in the cell with him. Two men. Two chairs. He guessed he’d have to stay on the floor. That was probably better anyway. It was a shorter distance to fall.

He scooted back against the wall and sat with his legs folded, chin resting on his knees. “Where am I?”

“Welcome to Club Med.” The one with the salt-and-pepper beard—the one who’d kicked him—thought his joke was hilarious. He laughed until he wheezed. Coughed. Laughed until he was gasping for breath.

Adin glanced at the other man, a reedy, pockmarked guy in a T-shirt and basketball shorts. “Pretend I don’t know what that is.”

That man cocked his head to the side and studied him. “You’re just a hatchling, aren’t you?”

Adin shrugged.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Hatchlings lose control of the beast when they’re hungry and high. You were both when they threw you in here.”

“I was
what?
”

“You came in here with your jaw clamped shut, thirsty, and talking all crazy. It was classic. If you try anything, it will be goodnight mister all over again, so don’t you dare.”

“Oh, Christ.
Barrett
.” Adin vaguely remembered the vibrant, glowing people he’d seen at the club. He remembered loving everyone so much he just want to give them all— “Someone drugged me.”

Salt-and-Pepper threw his head back and laughed. “Right. You never inhaled or whatever.”

“I don’t care if you believe it. God, my head is killing me. What is this place? Vampire drunk tank?”

“No, you moron. Don’t you know nothing?” Reedy guy shook his head, presumably baffled by Adin’s ignorance. “How’d you get popped anyway?”

“I—” Adin glanced from one man to the other. “I don’t know what you mean by
popped
.”

“You’re here, ain’t you?” Reedy guy gave a sweep of his hand like some low-rent Vanna White. “You got popped. Someone figured out you was a rogue vampire and they brought you here.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Somebody sold you out. That’s usually how it happens. Or some do-gooder brings you in out of the goodness of their heart.” Salt-and-Pepper laid his ankle on his knee and gripped it with both hands. “I was leaving the Dodger game when they got me. Fuckers threw a sack over my head, and the next thing I know, I’m in this place.”

“How long?” Adin asked.

“Dunno.”

“You can’t mean you just…stay here.”

“How am I supposed to get out?”

“What about your friends?” Adin asked. “What about your family?”

Reedy and Salt-and-Pepper both laughed at that.

“You got family and friends?” Reedy asked. Adin nodded.

“Better ask for your phone call.” Salt-and-Pepper rested his head against the wall. “’Cept they don’t give you one. So good luck with that.”

“We’ll see about that. Hey!” Adin stood and shouted for the guards.
“Hey!”

From down the hall, someone screamed, “Knock it off!”

“Guards ain’t going to come,” said Reedy. “Or they’ll come and they’ll tell you they’ve heard it all before and zap you with a cattle prod.”

“You’re stuck here, hatchling. Same as us.”

“You don’t know that.” Adin tried again. “Hey. I need to talk to someone here!”

“I need a blowjob,” came the reply.

“I need a blowjob too.” Another voice, farther up the industrial concrete hallway.

“I need to assfuck your mother.” That got a widespread laugh.

“I want a pony, cabron. Quit your bitchin’.” A woman’s voice called out.

“Shut the fuck up. I need to sleep.”

Adin glanced into the hall. He drew breath to shout again.

“Don’t bother,” said Salt-and-Pepper. “That was the on-duty guard who said he needed to sleep. Nobody gives a shit what you want.”

“But I have to get out of here.”

“I heartily concur, my dear fellow.” Salt-and-Pepper laughed again. “When you figure out a way to escape, let me know.”

Adin sat back down with his back to the wall. He folded his legs up and rested his cheek on his knees. God, his head ached. His mind was still muddled from the night before. Was that the night before? How long had he been there?

Fucking Barrett.

Fucking,
fucking
Barrett.

What had he put into that drink? It hadn’t tasted tainted. Whatever it was, Barrett was going to regret it. When Adin got hold of the little bastard, he’d make Barrett sorry he was ever born.

Christ.
Barrett
.

Barrett hadn’t liked Adin’s reaction to the drug. He’d had second thoughts, panicked while they were still at the bar. He had forced water on Adin. He’d gotten him out of there and taken him for coffee. And then… Whoever had kidnapped him had used a Taser on Barrett first. The last thing Adin remembered clearly was sitting over Barrett’s body, worrying that he’d hit his head. He’d thought about Donte. Spoken his name.

Donte! Oh, Christ. Donte is never, ever going to let me live this down.

“Okay.” Adin took a deep breath. “Okay. My name is Adin.

“I’m Gil,” said Salt-and-Pepper.

“And I’m Kurt.”

Adin nodded to them. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances. Will you please tell me everything you know about this place?”

Gil rubbed a grubby hand over his thigh. “It’s some kind of medical testing facility and we’re the mice. That’s all I know.”

Adin glanced from one man to the other, aghast. “Are you fucking with me?”

“He’s telling it like it is.” Kurt’s hopeless expression didn’t leave any room for doubt.

“They test on people?” Adin asked, aghast.

“We’re rogue vampires. We ain’t people to them.”

For the first time, Adin truly understood the meaning of Dorothy Parker’s words, “What fresh hell can this be?”

“When it’s over, do we get to go home?”

“Aw shit. I don’t know.” Gil gave another wheezy laugh. “You got a home to go to?”

There was a metallic click and all the lights went out.

“Oh, shit.” Adin heard Kurt scramble out of his chair. A thud landed against the wall next to where Adin sat. “Here they come.”

Adin was adjusting to the darkness when footsteps hurried down the corridor. They stopped just outside his cell.

Someone asked, “All set?”

And someone else said, “Clear.” And a blinding light flashed, leaving Adin with burning eyes and purple clouds obscuring his field of vision. Donte had given him one of the flash deterrents when he’d been human. He knew from experience that it would be a good five minutes before he could see again.

Rough hands reached for him. “Get up. Come on.”

“Kurt?”

“Do what they tell you.”

“Are you taking all of us?”

“You don’t need your little friends right now, princess. They can’t help you where you’re going.”

“Goddammit.” Adin tried to jerk free, but two guards hauled him up, one on each arm. “Let me go. You can’t do this.”

Think…Think…Adin tried a push of thought.
You don’t want to do this…
Christ. Why hadn’t he paid more attention in vampire school? With his natural resistance to all things vampire and Donte’s teasing about Jedi, he hadn’t bothered.

Physically, he was weak because he hadn’t fed. He couldn’t see a thing yet. And compared to these two burly guards, he weighed nothing. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to test a little something out,” said the guard on the right.

“Ah, no.” Adin dragged his heels. “Stop. Don’t do this.”

“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you’ll be fed and allowed to rest.”

Adin closed his eyes in terror.
Where had he heard that before?

“What are you testing?”

“Nothing. Just sunscreen.” The man said. “You’ll be paid for your time.”

The other one laughed. “Eventually.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means what it means.” He gave Adin a hard clout on the side of the head. Apparently conversation time was over. “Stop talking and strip.”

Adin pulled himself up to his full height. “I will not.”

“Have it your way,” The guard on his left clouted him again, and rough hands yanked his sweater and T-shirt over his head.

“Hey!” Adin tried to hang on to his jeans, but someone wrapped both arms around his chest, trapping his arms at his sides. In no time, they’d pulled his shorts and jeans and shoes off. He struggled there, naked, exposed to the jeers of these jackasses, until he heard a door open behind them. They pushed him into a tiny, standing-room-only cubicle and shut the door behind him.

He still couldn’t see anything. He reached out and found smooth, cool walls on all sides. The entire space was about three square feet. Just big enough for a man to stand in, like an old-fashioned phone box. He was thinking about that when a voice spoke from a speaker overhead.

“The chemical we are about to test may cause redness or burning sensations in the eyes, nose, and mucous membranes. This is a temporary reaction to the active ingredient in the spray. Rubbing will make this reaction worse. Previous test subjects have indicated that closing the eyes during the initial release of the chemical is beneficial, as is irrigation with water after the test. Remain standing, and when the spray stops, the door will open automatically to exit the room.”

A stuttering, hissing noise presaged a fine cold mist, which seemed to shoot out from jets all around him. It covered his skin with a nasty, greasy substance that smelled a little like coconuts. He kept his eyes and mouth closed, but couldn’t help flinching when the spray hit is face.

This went on for what seemed like a very long time. He was thoroughly covered—dripping—with whatever they were testing, when the door opened and he was forced to step forward. His feet slipped on the slick tile surface and he windmilled his arms for balance.

Overhead in this new room, the voice continued. “In a moment, you’ll feel a brisk flow of air, the object of which is to dry the product on your skin. When this is complete, you will be exposed to light. Observations will be made about how much time you spend in the light, and the degree to which the spray protected your skin. You will be asked for your input when the process is complete. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“My cooperation?” Adin shouted. “I’m not cooperating. Do I look like I’m fucking cooperating here?”

“Airflow countdown, five…four…three…”

“Automated
piece of shit
. I should have known.”

“Two…one.”

The gentle airflow turned out to be hot, dry, gale-force winds. Adin braced himself, holding both arms out in front of him to deflect the hot air buffeting him, whipping his sticky hair around, drying his skin. He was beginning to see again, but not well. He could make out the shape and size of the room he was in. A white square, maybe ten feet by ten feet with tile floors, glass windows he assumed were for observation, and a stainless steel ceiling pocked with canister lights. He felt stripped. He felt exposed. Anger fueled the desire to kick and scream and pitch the world’s biggest fit, but a second later the air stopped and lights came on, so bright he had to hold his hands in front of his closed eyelids to keep from being blinded again.

This, then, was
what fresh hell.

Adin fell to his knees, heedless of the hard floor. Heedless of the pain and the bruising that would surely come. The skin on his back heated uncomfortably.
Painfully.
His head hurt like a thousand drummers banged on it with mallets. The first seconds ticked by and he believed he could bear the pain. His head ached, but his back only felt warm, as though he were sitting close to a fire. Seconds later, he was forced to curl into a ball and protect his face with his arms.

His back… His exposed back and buttocks grew hotter and hotter. More seconds passed, but he lost the ability to tell how many.

The pain was incredible. Impossible, searing, agony.

Why was this happening to him?

Oh, Donte… Donte…

Adin fought back against the darkness closing in on him. He had to get through this. He had to remember it.

If by some chance he got out of this alive—intact, whatever—he was going to do everything in his power to remember each and every detail of the hours he spent here. If he got out of this, he’d come back and make the people torturing him and his kind pay.

He’d come back to this house of horrors and burn it to the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Co
ngratulations. This completes today’s cycle of testing. Please exit the chamber through the open door. Use caution. Surfaces may be slippery.”

Adin didn’t move. He
couldn’t
move. His back was on fire. His head throbbed. He felt like he had an astronomically high fever. He couldn’t open his mouth to speak. There wasn’t anyone around to speak to, in any case. The automated voice spoke again, overhead.

“Congratulations. This completes today’s cycle of testing. Please exit the chamber through the open door. Use caution. Surfaces may be slippery.”

Adin stayed where he was, curled into a fetal position. He was exhausted. Blistered all over. His eyes had swollen shut. He was helpless as an infant. He didn’t even have tears.

He’d really expected to disintegrate or burst into flames, like vampires in the movies, but he guessed that wasn’t the way it worked in the real world.

“Oh, Christ. He’s having a reaction,” said a woman’s distant voice. Possibly she was looking in from the other side of the glass. “Someone get a cot, quick, we’ve got an allergic reaction here.”

“Now see?” another voice, a man who’d entered the chamber with him and seemed to be making a closer inspection of Adin’s back, said matter-of-factly. “That’s what I’m talking about. No one understands how necrotic flesh can have a reaction like that. It’s not autoimmune, obviously. What, on the cellular level, is making it fight back?”

The woman spoke. “Don’t you get enough science in school, Tate?”

“Yes, I do.” The voice belonged to a man with burly arms. Ham hands. “I’m barely passing organic chem this year. It’s going to be years before we get into this shit.”

“I don’t care about this shit. I just want to get my paycheck and go home.” The woman directed two new arrivals to pick Adin up and lift him onto a gurney. They put him facedown, but Adin could swear he felt every individual air molecule burning the skin right off his back.

Someone was screaming. Adin was pretty sure it was him.

“Don’t you fret, hon.” The woman patted his hand. “We’ll get you fed while you’re in recovery.”

Turning away from her voice brought a fresh wave of agony.

“Christ. Look at that.” One of the new men whistled, low and long. “I don’t get why anyone volunteers for this shit.”

“They get a room, a meal, and some cash. Some of these rogues are transient and they don’t have a lot of options. Some are criminals, working off a sentence.”

“Unlucky motherfucker. I swear to God, if I ever get turned, just cut my fucking head off.”

“It’s not that bad if you’re under Kind protection. These rogues have rejected that. They feed indiscriminately. If we take them in, there’s less chance they’ll feed on some unlucky human who just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Adin wanted to laugh at that. Wrong place, wrong time…
Story of my life.

Wrong, wrong, wrong…

Because the lights were no longer flaying him alive, and because it appeared he was safe enough for now, he allowed himself to hope for the best. The gurney began a gut-churning, dizzying journey to wherever they were taking him. Several times, he gagged, and the process stopped while they shoved a cold metal tray under his jaw, but he had nothing to discharge.

He was transferred to a hospital bed. Jabbed with needles. Rinsed with soapy water and scraped painfully raw by ungentle hands.

Then the chills began, racking his body so hard the bed frame rattled against the wall. Eventually, he felt the unnatural warm flush of feeding. His muscles relaxed, as though he’d been given a drug. The euphoria of blood flooded his veins—but it came without the fecund sweetness of Sahar’s femininity or the testosterone-rich punch of Bishop’s anger.

This blood was stale. A pale imitation of the real thing. It was dipping dry toast in tea, when he held in recent memory all the riches of a roast beef and gravy meal. Of creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus Hollandaise, and Grand Marnier chocolate soufflé…

This blood was a flavorless protein bar, instead of a freshly home-baked cookie.

It may have done the trick, though, because his headache lessened and the bone-shaking chills grew less violent. It was enough that he was able to rest fitfully, without dropping into the frightening void.

It was enough that he could feel the healing process begin.

He may have even dropped into the void without meaning to, because the next thing he knew, there was activity all around him. He cursed with groggy defiance as once again, he was manhandled up, his legs and torso dressed in scrubs as though he were nothing more than a scarecrow. They wrapped him in blankets and bundled him into a wheelchair.

“Don’t say nothing in front of him.” The woman with the Hispanic accent pushed his chair at an almost-run. If only he could get his eyes open. “He’ll hear you.”

“How could this happen? You were the one who admitted him.”

“They said he was a rogue when they brought him. He didn’t have a token. I checked. Apparently there was a fuckup and the council’s issued a missing persons report for this guy. The Feds have put out an APB. He’s got people looking for him everywhere.”

“He’s not well enough to be released. What’s going to happen to him?” The two of them lifted Adin into some kind of vehicle and strapped him in.

“Not my problem. I got my orders, so I’m doing what I’m told.”

“Oh, Jesus. Sometimes I hate this job.” More footsteps, another door opened. Closed.

“All right. I’m in. Drive.”

Adin held on to his seatbelt during another wild ride. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone, couldn’t tell if it was day or night. Someone was looking for him, but he was too weak to feel elated. He wasn’t free of these people yet. Wouldn’t he be a tremendous liability for them if he talked about them paying for kidnapped rogues? In his weakened state they could just as easily dispose of him and solve their problem forever.

The vehicle finally came to a rocking stop and the doors opened. Once again, unseen hands unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Whhhha.” He tried to speak, but wasn’t yet able to form words. They banged his head accidentally on the way out and he drifted away again. Pain… So much pain…

“Help me find a good place. Hopefully, people will figure he’s some homeless guy. One of the crazy ones.”

Voices…they were just voices. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing. Maybe I’ll wake up next to Donte, and I’ll be human and whole again.

Did I already go to Paris for the auction? Maybe I’ll wake up in San Francisco and meet Tuan and Edward for breakfast and Irish coffee, or maybe I’ll see Deana in Los Angeles.

Why does any of this have to be real?

It doesn’t have to be real.

It’s only fever dreams, and I’ll wake up any minute…

They set him on the ground near a stand of juniper trees. He could smell the berries. Someone wrapped a crinkly blanket around his head and shoulders and placed another over his legs. “Stay covered, okay? It’s still daylight.”

Another voice. “You have all the shit he came in with?”

“Yeah, here.” Something dropped into his lap. “Nothing personal, man. Sorry.”

More doors closed and a car sped away. Adin stilled. Listened. Scented the air. Had they truly left him alone?

Was he free?

More important,
where
was he? Goddammit. Of all the times to be helpless. Alone. Frightened. He wrapped his blankets tighter around himself and tried to think rationally.

They said they brought his things. Did that mean his wallet and phone? He felt around and found a plastic bag with a drawstring. Inside, he found his clothing, wallet, watch… Where was the other watch? There… Thank Christ, he still had his father’s watch. It was a strange thing to worry about in the situation, but it gave him peace to touch it, to buckle it back on his blistered wrist.

Phone. He couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to call for help. He pressed the screen where he believed he’d find the “Emergency” button and waited…and waited…

Nothing.

Ah, Christ. His phone was probably dead.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Think… Connect.

Oh, my God… Donte…

As if a bolt of lightning blew through him,
he felt Donte there with him. All through him. Hope. Frustration. Longing. Despair. Love…above all. Love.

He felt small and weak in the face of that much emotion, but he embraced it. He tried to reassure his lover that everything was going to be all right. After all, he’d been on the other end of such a thing. Waiting and worrying about Donte when they’d discovered Bran was vampire Kryptonite.

He hadn’t wanted Donte to go through that, ever…but he’d gone out. Alone. Unprotected by Kind. He’d gone with a damn shifter, hadn’t he? A petulant child, who had apparently drugged him and lost him along the way.

He didn’t know where he was, but Donte would find him. Failing that…he could always call for Sahar.

God.
How sweet would that be? Sahar, with her doe’s eyes and her soft, dusky skin. Her rich blood. Her rich, delicious red blood.

But he was so tired. So very, very tired…

Adin fought the blackness of oblivion for Donte and Sahar. For Edward and Tuan and Bran…

There were people in the world who loved him. People who needed him.

Adin lay back. Found soft grass. He still couldn’t open his swollen, crusty eyes. He might need to do something about that. Find water. Rinse them. But for now, he was so, so tired.

Birdsong.
In the trees overhead, there were birds. He noticed the scent of orange blossoms. Honeysuckle. Horse. Chanel No. 5. Long before he sensed her there, the woman was with him. The only woman. Bare feet on the soft earth, she came to him with strength and sustenance, like a goddess, shining light and love on him.

He worshipped her. He worshipped her sacrifice, her selflessness. He worshipped her quiet strength. His eyes opened again, like a miracle.

It
was
a miracle. How had she come there? How had she known how badly he’d needed her?

“Sahar.” He breathed her name like a prayer. He looked down at her, and at first he didn’t understand. He saw what he’d done with revulsion.

Her eyes were open, glazed. She lay on the grass beside him, staring up at the sky.

Pale and lifeless.
Lifeless.

Oh, no…

Oh, Christ no…

Adin’s heart failed him.

His heart always failed him. He had no heart. Not anymore…

He’d killed her. Killed this precious vessel, this goddess, this beautiful woman who’d come to sacrifice herself for him. He’d killed her, and now he’d have to live with the guilt—the shame—of that, forever.

If this was the gift of immortality, he didn’t want it. He’d never wanted it…

Desperate and anguished, he stared down at Sahar’s limp body.

She was so lovely.
God. So lovely, even in death…

How could he bear it? How could he bear the knowledge that he’d taken Sahar’s life?

He fell to his knees, placed his head on her bosom, and wept.

More cars, skidding to a stop on the street beside them. More hands, more grabbing, and shoving and pushing. Adin bundled himself into his blankets, didn’t watch where they led him. He didn’t care anymore.

He’d become the thing he feared most, although at some point—was it just the day before?—he’d thought he’d escaped that particular fate.

He simply hadn’t understood his fate. He’d been afraid to become a monster. But he knew better now, because monsters killed without remorse. He was only a man, who couldn’t control the hunger that drove him. Only a man who’d killed an innocent woman because she’d come to him when he wasn’t capable of that control.

He was far, far worse off than a monster because he’d known better and he’d done it anyway.