Origin

All I could lift was my head, which put me at eye level with the guard’s chest. “There’s a special place in hell for you people.”



No one responded—not out loud, that is.



Archer’s voice filled my head. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath when I tell you.



Too panicked to even pay attention to what he was saying or give much thought to why he was trying to help me, I gasped for a breath.



The back of my shirt was lifted and chilly air rushed over my skin, sending a wave of goose bumps from my spine to my shoulders.



Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. My brain was shutting down, fear taking hold with razor-sharp claws.



Katy.



The cold edge of the scalpel came down on my skin, right below my shoulder blade.



Katy, take a deep breath!



I opened my mouth.



There was a quick jerk of the doctor’s arm and fire lit my back, an intensely deep, burning pain that split my skin and muscle.



I didn’t take a deep breath. I couldn’t.



I screamed.



Chapter 15



Daemon



I didn’t feel too spiffy.



About four minutes ago, my heart had started pounding like crazy. I felt sick to my stomach and could barely concentrate on putting one stupid foot in front of the other.



The feeling was vaguely familiar. So was the shortness of breath. I’d experienced this own brand of hell when Kat had been shot, but that didn’t make any sense. Relatively speaking, she was sort of safe here, at least from random psychos with guns, and there was no reason anyone would hurt her. Not at this moment, that was, but I knew they had done stuff to Beth to force my brother to mutate humans.



A warm tingle exploded along the back of my neck as the guard and I headed down the hall on the med floor. Kat was nearby. Good.



But the sick feeling, the general sense of dread and pressure building in my chest only worsened the closer I got to her.



This wasn’t good. Not good at all.



I stumbled, almost losing my balance, and that brought a big ol’ dose of what-the-hell. I never stumbled. I had wonderful poise. Or balance. Whatever.



The Rambo wannabe stopped in front of one of the many windowless doors and did the eyeball thing. There was a clicking sound, and the door opened. Air punched out of my lungs the moment I got a good eyeful of the room.



My worst nightmare had come true, springing to life in horrifying clarity and detail.



No one was standing near her, but there were people in the room, even though I really didn’t see them. All I saw was Kat. She was lying on her stomach, head turned to the side. Her face was ungodly pale and strained, eyes barely open. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead.



Dear God, there was so much blood—seeping off Kat’s back, pooling on the gurney table she was lying on, and dripping into the pans below the table.



Her back…her back was a mangled mess. Muscle cut and bone exposed. It looked like Freddy Krueger had gotten hold of her. I was pretty sure her spine was…I couldn’t even finish the thought.



Maybe a second had passed from when I entered the room and lurched forward, knocking the dumbass guard out of the way. I faltered when I reached her side and threw my hands out to catch myself. They landed in blood—her blood.



“Jesus,” I whispered. “Kat…oh God, Kat…”



Her lashes didn’t move. Nothing. A strand of hair clung to her sweat-soaked, pale cheek.



My heart was pounding erratically, struggling to keep up, and I knew it wasn’t mine that was faltering. It was Kat’s. I didn’t know how this happened. Not that I didn’t care, because I did want to know, but it wasn’t what was important now.



“I got this,” I told her, not paying heed to anyone in the room. “I’m going to fix this.”



Still nothing, and I cursed as I turned, preparing to shed my human skin, because this…this would require everything in me to fix.



My gaze met Nancy’s for a second. “You bitch.”



She tapped her pen on her clipboard and made a soft tsking sound. “We need to make sure you can heal again on what is considered a catastrophic level. Those wounds were made precisely to be fatal, but to take time, unlike a stomach wound or inflictions to other various parts of the body. You will need to heal her.”



I was so going to kill that lady one day.



Rage spiked, fueling me, and I shifted into my true form; the roar rose from the depths of my soul. The table shook. Utensils clamored and toppled off the tray. Cabinet doors opened.



“Jesus,” someone muttered.



I placed my hands on Kat. Kitten, I’m here. I’m here, baby. I’m going to make this go away. All of this.



There was no answer, and the tangy taste of fear coated me. Warmth radiated out from my hands, and the white light tinged with red swallowed Kat. Vaguely I heard Nancy saying, “It’s time to move on to the mutation phase.”



Healing Kat had exhausted me. That made everyone in that room very lucky because I was sure I could’ve taken out at least two of them before they got hold of me, if I could move my legs.



They had tried to remove me from the room after I’d healed Kat. Like hell I’d leave them alone with her. Nancy and Dasher had left some time ago, but the doctor hung out, checking Kat’s vitals. They were fine, he’d said. She was perfectly healed.



I wanted to murder him.



And I think he knew because he stayed far from my reach.



The doctor eventually left. Only Archer remained. He didn’t speak, which was freaking fine by me. What little respect I’d gained for the man was lost the second I realized that he’d been in this room the entire time they did…did this to her. All to prove that I was strong enough to bring her back from the brink of death.



I knew what was coming next: an endless stream of half-dead humans.



Pushing that reality out of my head, I focused on Kat. I sat by the bed, on the stupid rolling chair Nancy had been in, holding her limp hand, smoothing my thumb in circles, hoping that it reached her somehow. She hadn’t woken yet, and I hoped she had been passed out through the whole process.



At some point, a female nurse had come in to clean her up. I didn’t want anyone near her, but I also didn’t want Kat to wake up covered in her own blood. I wanted her to wake up and have no memory of this—of any of this.



“I got it,” I said, standing.



The nurse shook her head. “But I—”



I took a step toward her. “I will do this.”



“Let him do it,” Archer said, shoulders stiff. “Leave.”



The nurse looked like she would argue, but finally she left. Archer turned his head as I stripped away the blood-soaked clothing and began cleaning her back. And her back…there were scars—vicious, angry-looking red marks below her shoulder blades—reminding me of one of those books she had at home about a fallen angel whose wings had been ripped away.



I don’t know why she scarred this time. The bullet had left a faint mark on her chest, but nothing like this. Maybe it was because of how long it took me to heal her. Maybe it was because the bullet hole was so small and this…this wasn’t.



A low, inhuman sound crawled up my throat, startling Archer. I mustered whatever energy I had left and finished changing her. Then I settled back down and picked up her small hand. The silence was as thick as fog in the room until Archer broke it.



“We can take her back to her room.”



I pressed my lips to her knuckles. “I’m not leaving her.”



“I wasn’t suggesting that.” There was a pause. “They didn’t give me any specific orders. You can stay with her.”



A bed would be better for her, I imagined. Pushing myself up, I clenched my jaw as I slid my arms under her.



“Wait.” Archer was beside us, and I turned, curling my lip in a snarl. He backed away, holding his hands up. “I was only going to suggest that I could carry her. You don’t look like you’re capable of walking right now.”



“You’re not touching her.”



“I’m—”



“No,” I growled, hoisting Kat’s slight weight off the table. “Not happening.”



Archer shook his head, but he turned, heading for the door. Satisfied, I turned Kat as gently as I could in my arms, worried that her back would cause her pain. When I was sure she was okay like this, I took a step forward and then another.



The trip back to the room was as easy as walking barefoot over a floor of razors. My energy level was in the pits. Laying her down on her side and crawling in the bed beside her soaked up whatever strength I had left. I wanted to pull the blanket up so she wouldn’t be cold, but my arm was like stone between us.



Any other time I would’ve rather taken Nancy out to a romantic dinner than accept Archer’s help, but I said nothing when he lifted the blanket and draped it over us.



He left the room, and finally Kat and I were alone.



I watched her until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I then counted each breath she took until I could no longer remember what the last number was. And when that happened, I repeated her name, over and over again, until it was the last thing I thought before I slipped into oblivion.



…



Katy



I woke with a start, gasping in air and expecting it to burn me from the inside out, for the pain to still be there, ravaging every ounce of my being.



But I felt okay. Aching and sore, but otherwise okay, considering what had happened. Oddly, I felt detached from what the doctor did, but as I lay there, I could still feel the ghost hands on my wrists and ankles, holding me down.



An ugly feeling, a mess of emotions ranging from anger to helplessness, rattled my stomach. What they had done to prove that Daemon could heal fatal injuries was horrendous, and that word felt too light, not severe or heavy enough.



Feeling icky and uncomfortable in my own skin, I forced my eyes open.



Daemon lay beside me in a deep sleep. Dark shadows fanned his cheeks. Bruised shadows were under his eyes, a purplish tint of exhaustion. His cheeks were pale and lips parted. Several locks of wavy dark brown hair tumbled over his forehead. I’d never seen him look so worn out before. His chest rose steadily and evenly, but fear trickled through my veins.



I rose up on my elbow and leaned over, placing my hand on his chest. His heart beat under my palm, slightly accelerated due to mine.



As I watched him sleep, that ugly mess of emotion took on a new form. Hatred encased it, crystallizing into a hardened shell of bitterness and rage. My hand curled into a fist against his chest.



What they had done to me was reprehensible, but what they had forced Daemon to do was beyond that. And it would only get worse from this point on. They’d start bringing in humans, and when he failed to mutate them successfully, they would hurt me to get at Daemon.



I would become Bethany, and he’d become Dawson.



Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhaled a long breath. No. I couldn’t let this happen. We couldn’t let this happen. But in reality, it was already happening. Pieces of me had gone dark by what I’d done and what had been forced upon me. And if these ugly things kept piling up—which they would—how could we be any different? How could we not turn into Bethany and Dawson?



It struck me then.



I opened my eyes, my gaze traveling over Daemon’s broad cheekbones. It wasn’t that I had to be stronger than Beth, because I was sure she had been strong and still was. It wasn’t that Daemon had to be better than Dawson. We had to be stronger and better than them—Daedalus.