Skinwalker

The place is as empty as it was the first time I arrived at Genetics Incorporated. It feels impossible that day was only two days ago. So much has happened in such a short amount of time.

Leaving my things at Brittany’s desk, I work my way to Catherine’s cell. Despite taking a warm shower, shutting the lights off, and trying my best to sleep last night, it was impossible to actually do so. Instead, I arrived at Genetics Incorporated before the sun to do some scouting. The guard on duty who watches cell blocks A, B, and C is asleep with his feet up on the desk. It’s a different guard than the dayshift one from yesterday, but equally as worthless as the guard who was missing yesterday when I came through. They really have gotten lax around here.

Walking quietly and carefully, I pass the desk and turn down block A where Catherine’s cell is located at the very end, A004. Her code would be 000420214. I glance at Tala, who’s asleep, as I pass. A007, 000720217. Relief that I remember the code algorithm takes a little pressure away. It was easier to remember than I anticipated.

When I arrive, she is standing only a few inches away from the window.

The girl looks more like a teenager than she had the day before. Her cheeks are fuller, her eyes brightened with life. An eight-ounce cup of animal blood changed her overnight. She’s no longer sickly, no longer appearing on the brink of death despite already being dead already. The girl who couldn’t stand the first day I met her is now using energy she didn’t have. It may not have been very much, but it was exactly what she needed.

I slide the Styrofoam cup through the opening on the floor. Another eight ounces of pig’s blood. With this, she will have the energy she needs to get away from here once that cell door is opened. The vampire swallows the cup of blood with one gulp and cleans the walls of the cup by wiping her finger over it before sucking it off her finger.

Catherine puts the cup back on the ground and I collect it. I have one more stop before the guard wakes to begin his rounds. I can’t be back here when that happens. The lab technicians never come into these hallways, Brittany’s memories proved that when I was drafting a floorplan to this place. While she knew there were dozens and dozens of cells, she had no idea where or what they layout was.

When I find Cassandra’s cell, she’s laying on her cot picking at the cuffs with broken fingernails.

“Will you help me?”

Her head tilts backward and she looks at me upside down. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

“Logan needs to be removed,” I explain.

“You’ve seen him?” She gets to her feet and quickly approaches the door separating us.

“Find him and get out of here.”

“We can help,” she protests.

“He isn’t capable of helping right now.”

Remorsefully, she nods her head and agrees to the plan. As swiftly as I came, I leave.

Currently the plan is to release Catherine, then Tala, then Cassandra. Cassandra will occupy herself with Logan and the other two can escape while I begin accessing the database. It’s only part of a plan, but it’s still better than nothing. I need to figure out how to release the other subhumans.

Once I’m back in the hallway and am heading toward the lab I hear the guard’s cell phone alarm begin to sound. I literally got out of there in the nick of time.

Making my way through the halls I pause when I hear a conversation happening inside the breakroom. The door is propped open. One of the voices is strange to me but the other, I know well. Kayla Saunders, the spokeswoman that represents the company to the public.

I move along the hallway toward the open door to listen closer.

“One of them?” Kayla sounds flabbergasted.

“That’s right,” the stranger confirms.

Then Kayla laughs. “This is fantastic! Who have we cured? How did you figure it out?”

“We mixed mute blood of a shapeshifter lineage with that of Neut’s, and it altered his genetics. Last night we introduced the mute cure and this morning his aura is crescent shaped. If he follows pattern, it will be gone by lunch and so will his abilities.”

How do they know what his aura looks like? There are no subhumans that work in the facility to my knowledge. Does that mean one of the volunteers is helping to identify auras?

“Genius. Use their own genetics against them. Does it work on anyone else?”

“We have a few other shapeshifters we will test, and we’ve reserved a medical bay to trial the werewolf.”

“The hybrid?”

“No. We caught a werewolf three or four days ago.”

She sighs. “I want to see it tried on the hybrid.”

“Let’s make sure it works on the werewolf before we try it on her. We don’t want to accidently kill her; she’s too valuable.”

“Keep up the good work. I’ll check back in a week or two.”

Quickly, I head back to the hallway I came from.

They have announced a cure for mutes. It’s worked on ten of them last I heard. Now they have a cure that probably translates to shapeshifters, and they’re going to trail it on a werewolf? If transfusing species related mute blood into our systems is the only thing that needs to happen, they’re going to make rapid progress. The only species that doesn’t have a mute is vampires. I can’t imagine there’s a cure for the dead anyways.

I’ve run out of time.

These people need to be freed tonight.

This place needs to be destroyed.

Annamarie sets her coffee on the desk then pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Logan’s scheduled for testing today.” She unlocks her computer. “I could take him if you’re not interested.”

“I said I would do his draw.” I shut down her offer.

The morning is spent filing reports associated with yesterday’s patients while Annamarie works in the lab, getting results for the labs that were left over from yesterday evening. Even the paperwork isn’t enough to keep my mind from wandering after what I learned this morning. Will a transfusion of shapeshifter mute blood work on me?

They have several shapeshifters at the facility they can test. One of them, is my brother. If someone decides to dose him up with some mute blood and then hit him with the mute cure, and it all works, then I know it will work on me, too. While I don’t want that to happen, he does, and he seems desperate for that outcome. I can’t blame him for not wanting to be a skinwalker.

“The demons in room three,” a voice comes from somewhere behind me.

I look up to see one of the security guards there.

“I’ll be there.”

The two guards aren’t standing inside of room three where Logan is waiting. They’re both sitting at the station, messing with their phones, with the door into his room wide open. Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but think how completely useless the two of them are.

From here I can see he’s restraints are chained to the floor, but the leather straps aren’t being used. He seems subdued. Like someone gave him a dose of antianxiety medication before he was transported here. While he seems out of body, like he has no idea what’s going on, he picks at the bracelets.

In the room, with the door closed, I assess him further.

Blood is caked under his fingernails and dried around his cuticles. Fresh cuts on his fingers fill the crevasse of the bracelet’s design red, making his fingers slick enough that he can’t gain traction at the opening. He speaks so quietly I can’t hear him, but I see his lips are broken, a sign he’s tried chewing the bracelets from his wrists. Desperation to remove the magic taming cuffs kept him occupied, every moment of the night was spent awake and fighting with those.

“Logan, stop it.”

He grumbles something with a ragged voice.

“What did you say?”

More words are muttered but this time I can make some of them out. “…hear… never-ending… thoughts.” He continues speaking under his breath and picking at the bracelets while I try to figure out what he’s trying to say. Then he falls silent.

I glance around the room to make sure no one joined us, causing his silence, but we’re alone. “Logan?”

His eyes flash up; they’re dark and wild but he isn’t actually seeing me. His eyes are too glossed over to see what’s right in front of him. His focus is beyond this room and suddenly I think I understand his mutterings.

“Can you hear me?” I snap my fingers next to his ear, but he makes no movements.

All of the sudden he brings one of the bracelets to his mouth and begins to gnaw at it like a dog does a bone. The wood doesn’t allow his teeth to make an impression.

“What have I done to you?” I whisper rhetorically.

While the demi-demon can’t actually hear my voice, I theorize he can hear just about everything else. If I’m right, the bracelets aren’t subduing his ability like they do for the others, instead they’re restricting his capacity for blocking the never-ending stream of thoughts coming from the people in this building.

For the entire night he has been listening to the fears, losses, pain, and sorrows of other subhumans trapped in this place. He’s heard the corrupt humans that hate us. He’s listened to their freedom, hopes, fantasies, and life.

I grab his forearm, pulling the cuff from his mouth. I had no idea this would happen to him; how could I? Cassandra would be livid if she knew I’d done this to him.

It takes a moment too long for me to realize that his eyes suddenly focus intently on me; he’s no longer a million miles away or distracted by the determination of freedom. The metal tray table next to the chair spills over, crashing to the floor and my back is shoved into the wall. He’s in front of me, grabbing ahold of me by the throat.

“Logan!” I try to scream but it’s just a raspy, muted word.

Frantically I try to pull his hands from my throat but he’s stronger than I am.

“Where is she? Where’s Cassandra?”

My fingers dig into his forearms; fresh warm blood is pooling under and around my nails, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He was restrained. I looked right at the clip on the floor, and it was clipped to the D-ring in the cement. Why hadn’t I noticed otherwise?

“Don’t force me to listen to your thoughts silence.” If I don’t tell him what he wants to know, he intends to kill me. I can’t tell him anything with his hands around my throat.

He slams me against the stone wall and my head bounces off the cinderblocks. Momentarily, there are bursts of light in my eyes, and I can’t see anything but the static of the shimmering white dots. I try to blink them away and I want to cry out, but I can’t. I’d forgotten what was happening, that Logan is choking me.

Again, I try to get his name out and the edge of my vision begins turning black. “P-se.” I slap my right hand against the wall and my fingers scrape against the cinderblock, searching for the panic button. I need help.

“Tell me where she is!”

My eyes feel like they’re going to bulge out of my head.

In a moment of desperation, I grab ahold of his face and feel the discomfort that comes along with choosing a host pulse through my own head. It only lasts for a moment because I can’t use my ability with men. The attempt causes him to shout out in pain and grab his head. I’m dropped on the ground, and I hear him trip, knocking the supplies on the floor.

The floor smacks against the side of my face hard and the world around me goes completely black and utterly silent.