Taken by the Beast (The Conduit Series Book 1) (25 page)

“Don’t you get it?” I asked. “They know now. They all know. They have it on camera. It’s all out in the open. It’s never going to be like it was again. There is no disappearing, not for any of us.”

“To be so young.” She chuckled. “They always do this, Supplicant, and it never lasts. They don’t
want
to believe. They can’t handle believing. So yes, they see and they know. And then, after a while, they convince themselves that it was all conjecture or imagination or special effects. It’s in their nature. But it isn’t in yours. You need to run.”

“No …” I said through gritted teeth.

“Your funeral.” She shrugged. “I hope he’s worth it.”

She turned and began toward the door.

“Wait!” I said. “I still need your help to get out of here.”

“You already have it.” She smiled, looking over her shoulder and holding up a vial of blood—
my
blood, no doubt. “I said they were all asleep, and they will be for the next ten minutes.”

“All?” I asked, my eyes narrowed. “Everyone in the hospital?”

“Everyone in the town,” she answered flatly. “Now run. Ten minutes isn’t much of a head start.”

I pulled the electrical wire stickums off of myself, wincing as the machine they attached me to made a long flat-lining beep. As soon as my bare feet hit the cold tiled floor, I scurried to find my clothes. Ten minutes, that was all Satina had given me. Perhaps it was all she
could
give me. I had no idea how magic worked, but sending an entire town’s worth of people off to sleepy town didn’t seem like an easy job. And she only had a singular vial of my blood.

Or did she?

For all I knew, she had pumped me like a farmhouse well before I woke up. That would account for the dizziness. But why? Abram had said Supplicant blood had a shelf life. Was she planning on using it all soon?

Whatever the case was, I was still alive, and that put her one up on what that horrid mystery monster wanted to do to me and what the town wanted to do to Abram.

My shoes were in the corner, scuffed and practically screaming with wear. As I moved closer, I saw the sole was coming off of one of them, an absolute abomination of a thing that, on any other day, would have sent me screaming back to bed. But at the moment, I was in a tender situation. Shoe integrity would have to take a backseat, even if the sight of it made me want to heave.

“Sorry, Lu,” I said, leaning down and untying her laces.

I really did not want to steal her shoes, and it wasn’t because she had bad taste. On the contrary. She was stylish, and there were more than a few times when I’d shipped her an extra pair or two of whatever I was gifted on a particular photoshoot. She had just had a baby, though, and her low top sneakers spoke to that.

It was a good thing, too. My feet (along with the rest of my body) were killing me. I wasn’t worried about style today. I was worried about function.

I slid Lulu’s shoes off her feet and placed them on mine. They felt like heaven, all cushioned and relaxed. For all of our similarities, Lulu had a slightly larger foot than me. I slid around a little as I stood, but they would do. I tied them extra tight before I scanned the room, lips pursed.

I still didn’t see my clothes. Shit. Where did they put them? I didn’t have time to think, so I started throwing open cabinets and doors, much like I had that time I lost Jack. Never in a million years would I have guessed that day would lead to here.

When all the cabinets came up empty, I raked my hands through my hair. I didn’t have time for this! I spun in a slow circle, begging for a solution. Clothes, Satina! Why didn’t you leave me
clothes
? My throat was closing off, making it harder to breath.

Calm down, Char
.

I ran into the next room and looked around. The sleeping beauty in this room was apparently allowed to have clothes, because a pair of sweat pants and a large shirt were folded neatly on the chair next to her bed. Thankfully she was on the curvier side like me, even if she didn’t have the best fashion sense.

Knowing I wouldn’t have time to put them on, I scooped them up and decided I would get dressed after Satina’s magical timeout wore off.

Running through what signs now told me was the third floor was just about the creepiest thing I had ever seen. Halloween 2 had taught me to be distrustful of hospitals, especially empty hospitals. And watching it now, devoid of any conscious movement, sent my heart racing.

People littered the floor, having fallen where they presumably stood just minutes before. A nurse at the desk had knocked her coffee over, effectively destroying a desktop computer. Another nurse
had fallen with her head just inches away from her soup bowl. I wondered what would happen if she hadn’t missed it. Would she wake up, or would Satina’s spell stay in effect, drowning her in clam chowder?

And what about the poor bastards in surgery? Were they bleeding out on some operating room table, unable to wake up? And what if that were true? What could I do about it? I couldn’t undo the choices Satina had made.

The sickness in my stomach would not settle, though. Whatever she had done, she had used
my
blood to do it. I had to know. So as I slipped past one of the operating rooms, I stole a moment to peer inside.

Frozen.
Everything
was frozen—even the blood.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and ran back into the hall, trying to make up for wasted time—trying to orient myself which way to go. I trained my eyes forward, doing my best to block out the sights along with the thoughts. My steps came faster, softened by Lulu’s comfortable shoes.

I pushed through the doors and onto the streets. The first thing I felt was warmth. There was a fire. A car had crashed into a nearby telephone pole, and the engine had ignited.

“Damnit,” I muttered.

Clearly Satina had not thought of
everything
.

How much damage had this spell, had my blood, caused? Guilt, as familiar as an old friend, sprung up inside of me. The man in the car, old and balding, lay snoring against the steering wheel. He was unaware that he had destroyed his Lexus and was about to burn to death because of it.

“Goddammit!” I yelled, knowing what I had to do.

Ten minutes wasn’t long enough. As it was, I would have been lucky to get out of the Town Square mere minutes before the angry mob woke. I could have hid in the woods and done my best to find Abram after they passed. Maybe my super magic blood would draw me to him or something. That was a thing. Right?

But I couldn’t do that now. I couldn’t leave this man to die because of me, even if I wasn’t the one who cast this stupid sleeping spell. Dropping my clothes, I sprinted over to the car. The warmth washed over me, making me even more lightheaded than before. Almost woozy, I swallowed hard and pushed on. Passing out wouldn’t help anything now, and the clock was ticking.

The door creaked as I pulled it open. That meant it must have been damaged in the crash, because I had been in enough luxury automobiles to know that the doors don’t creak.

Whipping off the old guy’s seatbelt, I groaned.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I told him as I pulled.

The bastard was heavy—like,
really
heavy. The flames grew higher. They got closer. And still this old guy wasn’t moving.

“What do you eat, Cream of Lead?” I huffed, pivoted my right leg against the door for leverage, and gave one last tug. The old man jarred out of the car, barreling toward me like some sleeping, geriatric cannonball.

He landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me and shuffling back into a comfortable (for him, anyway) position.

I was trapped, pinned beneath this slobbering fool.

And that’s when I heard the footsteps.

My body went ridged. It hadn’t been ten minutes, not even close. If it had been, then this old guy would be awake right now instead of having his wrinkly unconscious palm placed firmly against second base.

No, these steps belonged to someone else, someone supernatural in nature.

“Abram …” I muttered, pushing at the old guy futilely. He was heavy, and I wasn’t able to get him off me. “Abram, please tell me that’s you.”

The only answer though was continued and closer footsteps.

“Abram,” I called again.

A huff answered me this time. Paws—not feet—settled in front of me. I traced the beast upward. Full hair laden thighs, a massive chest, and shoulders that would have blocked out the sun if it wasn’t the middle of the night. As I got to his face, the worst fate was confirmed. These weren’t Abram’s eyes. This wasn’t Abram’s face.

This was the other beast.

The beast who wanted me dead.

And here I was, trapped and helpless to stop it.

The beast growled at me, teeth bared and eyes glaring hungrily. Its jaw snapped at me before it licked its snout.

“Get away from me!” I said, pushing wildly against the old man’s body. Of course, he didn’t move.

The monster knelt toward me, and the scent of burning flesh wafted through the air.

“Get away!” I repeated. But what could I do? I was meat, literal meat, waiting to be consumed and drained of everything that made me, me.

I pushed against the man again, but this time I felt a stiff mass pressed against the waistband of his pants.

Well, this is awkward.

No. It wasn’t that, I realized. This wasn’t New York, and that hard mass wasn’t an old man’s excitement. It was a gun!

God bless this town.

I whipped the pistol out of his pants
and aimed it toward the monster. Without flinching, I pulled the trigger. The barrel pushed back, knocking me in the chest. But the blast did its job. Opening my eyes, I saw that the monster was gone.

Adrenaline pulsed through me, sweet and freeing. After placing the gun beside me, I pushed hard. I pushed like I should have the first time—like my life depended it—and finally he budged enough from gravity to help tip him off of me.

I jumped to my feet and bolted. I needed to get out of here, get away before the beast returned.

I rounded the corner, desperate to get back to the woods which had ironically become my safe haven. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who had that idea.

I ran smack dab into someone. Panicking, I starting clawing at the body instantly.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. “Stop. It’s me! Char, it’s me.”

Looking up, I saw Dalton standing in front of me. His hair was disheveled, and his face was pale.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I thought you were—”

And then it hit me. Everyone else was still unconscious. Even now the streets were littered with sleeping citizens. The fact that Dalton was awake right now, that he was standing in front of me—

I shook my head and swallowed hard, cautiously stepping back. “No, Dalton. Please, no. Not you.”

“Oh, Char,” he said, and he grabbed my arm, his expression darkening. His hands turned to claws, digging into me, breaking the skin. His eyes flickered red as my blood touched him.

It was him. Dalton was the other beast.

“I should have known. I was so frantic, hoping that my sister wasn’t the Supplicant. I looked right past the most obvious candidate.” He grinned wide and manically. “It was you. It was always you.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “No, it can’t be. You knew I was in the woods that night. You would have known it was me.”

“Oh, Char. How limited your scope of this earth really is. Of course I wasn’t the one who attacked you in the woods that night. I had been … preoccupied.”

My mind flashed to the woman who had been found dead that same night—the one who had been walking her dog. I shook my head, the horror piercing every inch of my skin like a thousand needles. But how—

“I admit, I should have figured it out when your blood lured me to Abram’s home,” Dalton continued. “But then Ellie Farmer was there. I thought I’d left her for dead, but there she was, taunting me, and I thought for sure she was the Supplicant, that somehow I’d missed it the first time. But then she skipped off again, right out of protective custody, and who should I find when I go to look for her? You. You walking around when the rest of the town is trapped in some frozen spell.”

As terrified as I was, my mind just wouldn’t let go of one thought: Dalton was the beast who had killed those women. Dalton was the beast we were looking for. But Dalton was
not
the beast who attacked me in Abram’s home. Which meant … 

I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to admit that there could be more … that there could a third beast in New Haven. With everything I knew, it made sense, but admitting it made this situation feel even more hopeless.

Finally, I whispered what I already knew to be true. “It’s not just you, is it, Dalton? There are others. Aren’t there?”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, isn’t it, Char? You wouldn’t have gotten far in life if you had to rely on your mind.” He titled his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course there are others. You escaped, after all. And my victims never escape.”

It was true. Ellie Farmer had died eventually, even if Abram had reanimated her with Satina’s spirit. But where did that leave me now? I finally had all the answers I wanted, but I wouldn’t live to tell about it.

With a low and deep growl, Dalton pulled me closer with one arm and punched me hard in the face with the other. I whipped back, but he wouldn’t let me go.

“Sorry, Char, but I’m going to have to make you bleed.”

Blood poured from my nose, and Dalton looked at it hungrily. This didn’t make any sense. This man, the one standing before me now, wasn’t anything like the person I had come to know since returning to New Haven, much less the boy I grew up with.

Dalton’s mouth twisted into a determined, but sullen, smirk. Still, he held my arm tightly.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to end. You should know that.” His voice was light and apologetic. “Even if it wouldn’t have been you, even if it had been one of those random girls who looked like you, I still didn’t want it to come to this.”