Dead Embers(57)

I wanted to tense; I wanted to scream and lash out at them. Anything to vent the deep, dark fury they'd unleashed. How dare they stand there and talk about me like that? Mutant? Creature? They were studying me and testing me as if I were some kind of science experiment? What was next? Dissection?

Shut up, Bryn, and quit with the dissection talk.

Something beeped, and soon the beep sped up, faster and faster. The men fell silent as the hard soles of their shoes clicked across the floor. I held my breath, tamping my fury down, needing to calm myself. Too coincidental that the machines beeped just when I got so furious. Cords and wires were plastered all over my body, so who knew what they were monitoring right now.

As I calmed myself, the beeping slowed. "What happened?" asked the general, his rough voice sounding almost concerned. I wanted to scoff. It wasn't as if they cared about my health.

"Her heart rate increased there for a minute." A woman spoke to the sound of tearing paper. "See, there, a sudden rise in her rate. Maybe a dream?"

"Probably a dream, yes, Nurse Marks," said the doctor, his voice cold and impersonal. "Keep monitoring her vitals."

"Dr. Lee, is there anything we need to be concerned about?" There it was again. That name: Dr. Lee! I hadn't registered it the first time Hammond had used it. But the coincidence was discomfiting. Could it be Aidan's father? The name was common enough. Still, I had to force myself to control my fear so as not to trigger the heart monitor again.

"No, General, the rise in her heart rate is most probably just a dream. She's not about to go into cardiac arrest. She is fit and healthy, healthier than any human I've ever examined. She is also very strong. . . ." Dr. Lee's voice trailed off, going strangle-quiet after mentioning my strength.

"Very well then, Dr. Lee. My team and I will leave you to your work. Keep me informed, will you?" Boots clacked against the tiles as Hammond and his team departed.

When the door shut behind them, Dr. Lee grunted his displeasure. "Bloody fools. They have no idea who they're dealing with." He moved to the side of my table. I remained as still as possible. Maybe he'd leave me alone if I feigned sleep. I had no ideas or plans for any heroics in the near future. Too drained of energy, too full of drugs, too tired of failure.

"Well, Miss Halbrook. I do believe you are awake and quite conscious."

How the hell did he know I was actually conscious? I didn't move a muscle; neither did my heartbeat do any sort of dance on the monitor. A film of perspiration covered my skin as I slowly began to panic. A silence followed in which I willed my pulse to behave itself.

"Okay, so I see we will be playing that game now. Not a problem, Miss Halbrook. Not a problem at all." He shuffled around; fabric rustled, and I cracked open an eyelid to watch, helpless, as he tapped a syringe and screwed it into the IV tube hanging beside me. He smiled at the IV and then faced me. I wasn't fast enough to shut my eyes and continue the pretense. My eyelids flickered wider and I met his eyes, staring, for the first time, into Dr. Lee's pleasantly smiling face.

Tears gathered and fell, sliding down my cheek, seeping into the oily hair at my ears. My heart hurt. The room faded and all I could see were his eyes.

Aidan's eyes.





Chapter 44




Strange sounds bombarded my semi-conscious ears. Metal crashed to the tiled floor and someone grunted as if punched in the gut. A shout, so close, made me flinch. Or at least I wanted to flinch, but nothing happened. I tried to move, but not a muscle paid any attention to my efforts.

My heart stabbed my ribs, frantic in its cage. I tried so desperately to move some part of me. Any part of me. Straining, I almost gave up when a single toe wiggled, and my pinky followed. They may have budged at last, but they hurt as if steeped in liquid fire.

My eyelids fluttered; they felt heavy, as if the skin had grown in thickness and weight and my muscles were too weak to lift them open. I moaned in frustration, needing to see what was happening, hating how vulnerable I was.

The sounds of fighting grew steadily louder, closer. Metal clanged against metal, interspersed with grunts and moans and thuds. Glass shattered and something bumped into my bed. And while the battle ensued, all I could do was lie there, unable to protect myself.

I blinked again, swallowed. Tried to rise. Each tiny movement sent pain barreling into my brain. So much that I almost sobbed.

At last the grunts and shouts fell silent, and a finger brushed the hair from my forehead. "Bryn." My name sounded like a wave breaking on a distant shore.

I forced my eyelids open. And again, I looked into Aidan's eyes.

Relief should've flooded my senses, but all I felt was pure fear—and clearly my eyes hid nothing, since Aidan flinched at the intensity he saw in them. If he was hurt or upset he didn't show it, just slipped his arm under my torso, urging me into a sitting position. But my body was rubber and I flopped forward, my weight drawing me slowly over the edge of the gurney. I barely heard the bustle of activity around me as I stared emotionless at the tiles, knowing I was about to smack right into them.

But I didn't fall, didn't hit the floor. Aidan saved me. He held on, then propped me up against him. My heart struggled, slamming against my chest. I wasn't sure I wanted to be that close to Aidan right then, not when it was his father's face that shimmered in my mind's eye.

I wanted to pull away from him—I just couldn't help it.

In that sitting-slouching position, head tilted forward, I was very aware of my skin. Bare, blue-veined thighs, so pale I could have been a long-dead corpse. A papery hospital gown pretended to cover my body, tied at the top of my neck and catching on something at my shoulders. Probably skewed by my wings. I shifted, tugging the bottom edge uselessly, needing to cover up in the bright, clinical light of the hospital room.

Aidan gasped just then, his body stiff with shock. Something was really wrong, but I couldn't turn to see what alarmed him. All I could do was look at the horror in his eyes as he stared right behind me. Then he turned away, his face now clear, devoid of the stark horror of a few seconds ago. He drew me to him for support.

And suddenly I was very afraid.

Afraid of what they'd been doing to me, what experiments they'd performed on me. But my greatest fear was Aidan's father—the very man who was now being thrust into the room, held in a death-grip by two Warriors, his hands cuffed together. Another man followed the struggling trio, and when he came into full view I flushed. At least I wanted to flush, but seeing that I barely had any blood flowing in my veins, that particular bodily reaction was impossible.

Thor's gorgeous blue eyes rested on me. He offered a gentle gaze and a nod, then averted his eyes, and I knew he felt bad for me. But despite his concern, I could tell he knew I wouldn't appreciate coddling and that I hated not being able to do anything for myself.

I rested against Aidan, not that I had much choice; I could still barely feel my body. What parts of my extremities had begun to regain sensation felt only mind-numbing pain at first. I had to struggle to breathe against the pain before I could concentrate on the people in the room, Dr. Lee's captured staff being led out, and the doctor himself staring enigmatically at me.

So I sat there, able only to lean my chin on Aidan's shoulder as he snuck another glance behind me at whatever horror seemed to control his attention. Despite my curiosity, I had no energy or control of my body to turn around and find out what had shocked him. I opened my mouth, intending to ask him what was wrong, but the words never left my lips.

"Valkyrie Brynhildr," Thor's voice boomed. The vibrations rattled the steel instruments around the room. "I believe this man is the one responsible for your incarceration. Can you confirm this?" He nodded at the Warriors holding Aidan's father, and they stepped forward, bringing the unsmiling doctor closer to us.

Anger blazed from my eyes, providing all the confirmation Thor needed.

"Very well. He will be taken to Asgard immediately, along with the other prisoners." Thor began to turn to the guards, no doubt to give the order to take my jailor away.

At first I thought I couldn't speak, but I damned well had questions. "No. Wait. Bring him closer," I said, but the words were distorted by my parched throat and the tears that gathered there. I cleared my throat and said again, "Bring him closer to me."

Thor nodded, his blond hair glinting in the unflattering fluorescent light. Still, his hair looked good. Way better than the oily stringy strands that hung about my own face.

The guards gripped the doctor's arms, shuffling him closer to the gurney. Closer, but not too close.

"What did you want with me?" I asked. The words dragged over the gravel of my throat.

"How can you not know what I want with you, Valkyrie Brynhildr?" The arrogance in his voice grated on my nerves, and I had the urge to punch the man. But my weak and unresponsive body wouldn't comply.

Aidan flinched beside me, the muscles in his arms tightening. My head lolled off his shoulder. He grabbed for me as I fell toward the bed, and I sucked back a moan. The drugs and numbness were wearing off drop by drop, and white agony took their place. Aidan steadied me again, gripping me beside him as he turned to face my tormentor.

His father.

For a few precious moments, I'd forgotten the evil doctor was father to the boy who'd stolen my heart. I watched the son stare at the father. And I frowned; the muscles in my forehead surprised me by actually responding. Aidan seemed to have no loyalty or sympathy for the man. His eyes were devoid of any filial emotion.