“She is no concern of yours.” Zophiel returned to her captive and walked in a slow circle, taking Carly in from every angle. “Tell me about the formula. I know it evolved over time. What was it first meant to do?”
“It’s all in my reports.” Carly stilled and what little color she had drained from her face. “Except the backers didn’t send you, did they?” She swallowed hard and watched Zophiel with new interest. “Who are you? You’re obviously Therian, but you’re not working with the cats. So… How did you know where to find me?” Her brows arched suddenly and she whispered, “Are you Nehema?”
Zophiel carefully guarded her reaction. Close, but no cigar. “Where did you hear that name?” The backers were ambitious and ruthless, but they had no reason to tell a human about their enemy. Further proof that Carly was more than just an employee.
Carly ignored her question and a triumphant light flashed within her dark eyes. “You are, aren’t you? Why do you hate the backers? Why did you blow up their supply convoy?”
Zophiel didn’t consider herself Therian, so she’d never been overly concerned with the backers’ twisted project. Nehema, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to avoid them. Her sister was obsessed with “saving” Therian females before their animal natures were defined. Nehema wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to stand in the way of her mission, but she lacked the savage instincts necessary to act upon her resolve.
Savagery was no problem for Zophiel. She loved her sister and even though she thought Nehema’s insistence on finding “reasonable” outlets for her brutal impulses was a waste of time, Zophiel fought most of Nehema’s battles for her. This latest conflict was the perfect example. Nehema had foolishly trusted General Milliner and his betrayal had left her fuming with impotent rage. Refusing to consider a more direct retaliation, Nehema had blown up the supply convoy. Now the backers were determined to find Nehema and permanently nullify the annoyance. Their renewed determination to kill her sister left Zophiel to set things right.
No one hurt Nehema without feeling the sting of Zophiel’s wrath.
“I’m asking the questions and you’re answering them. Now do not speak unless you’re providing information.” Stopping directly in front of Carly, Zophiel locked her hands behind her back. “Explain the difference between the formulas.”
“The test subjects refused to change forms, so we had to find a way to trigger and control their transformations. That was the purpose for the original formula.”
Transformation was as fundamental to Therians as breathing. Having someone else control when and if they were able to transform would be horrible, unthinkable. “Was the formula successful?”
“It took several tries, but yes. In the end we were able to trigger and reverse their transformations whenever we wanted.”
It took considerable effort not to reveal how appalling she found the concept. But Carly’s story had just begun, so Zophiel suppressed any hint of emotion. “Go on. What did the next formula do?”
“The generation two formula was supposed to make them more manageable, more susceptible to suggestions. That was the general’s primary interest. Their abilities meant nothing if he couldn’t control them.” Carly squirmed on the chair, tugging against the cords binding her arms and legs.
Her stubbornness amused Zophiel. There was no way the human could break free, so why did she keep trying? “And was generation two successful?”
The doctor sighed and stopped struggling. She’d either accepted her captivity or worn herself out. Zophiel wasn’t sure which. “It’s more complicated than yes or no. Some test subjects were extremely susceptible to suggestion while others were completely immune to gen two’s effects.”
“Were you able to determine why there was such a wide variation in results?”
“Why became less important as the main side effect pushed the entire project in a different direction.”
“Explain.”
“I’m cooperating.” Carly sat up as straight as her bonds allowed and looked into Zophiel’s eyes. “I will continue to cooperate, but I’d like to know who you are and why you kidnapped me.”
“Who I am is irrelevant and my purpose is self-evident. Now answer the question.”
“If I’m going to provide you with valuable information, I require—”
“You’re not in a position to require anything.” Without warning Zophiel transformed her fingernails into long, pointed claws. She swiped Carly’s face and left distinct crimson scratches across her fair skin. The human hadn’t so much as yelped, but she trembled with her silent sobs. “I suspect pain doesn’t intimidate you, but you’re a vain little thing. If you hesitate again, I’ll remove your nose then lay open the crest of each cheek. Are these secrets really worth permanent disfigurement?”