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  Shocked, Rowan found her breath catch. Dr. Miller’s words felt like rejection, and after all the praise, the harshness came like a slap across the face. “Doctor, I—”

  Miller let her shoulders slack and tried to warm her expression. “Please don’t take this negatively. I simply want to give you an out if you wanted it. You have potential, Miss Platts, but this kind of work isn’t for everyone, and I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for stealing away your career just because you ended up being more of a... Phelps.”

  She reached out to put her hand on Rowan’s shoulder, an encouraging gesture, perhaps to soften the blow of her words. After everything though, being compared to Phelps felt more like an insult, especially now that it was being used to point out how she might not be as much like Miller as she originally thought.

  “If you choose to leave now, while I’ll certainly be disappointed, you have my promise that you will be allowed to continue your research here at ECBS without interruption, as if this project never happened. I trust you to keep what has happened so far to yourself, because out of anyone I think you clearly understand what is at stake if there’s a leak of information.” Miller smiled carefully, going for a hard and fair approach as she concluded her proposal with a final warning. “If you choose to stay though, this offer won’t be made again. If you come to work tomorrow, I expect you to be in this for the long run. I need to know that I can rely on the people next to me, through anything.”

  Rowan was sure Miller’s proposition was meant to make her slow down and really consider what she was getting herself into, consider her emotions and reactions and everything else that happened in the last forty-eight hours, but the ultimatum presented had quite the opposite effect on her. Instead of reflecting, Rowan simply felt more driven to prove Miller’s doubts wrong.

  She allowed her fear to cloud her desires too much lately. She knew what she wanted. She wanted success, she wanted recognition, she wanted the outstanding career that Miller had committed her life to, and Rowan was ready to commit herself in the same way. No more letting her emotions get the better of her, dragging her away from her ambitions.

  Miller wanted Rowan by her side, that much was clear, and Rowan wasn’t about to disappoint either of them by giving into something foolishly primal like fear.

  After all, he couldn’t hurt her as long as she stayed out of that room.

  This determination made it easy for Rowan to convince herself to return to the ECBS the following day, even though she slept restlessly and couldn’t shake the smell of blood. That was easily forgotten however, when she imagined Miller’s delight once she showed up, and this psyched herself up even further for the start of a new day.

  She didn’t get the greeting she expected when she arrived, though. Miller was too engrossed in a conversation with Phelps, which had both their faces engraved with concern. Rowan shook off her disappointment and snaked her way into the conversation instead, taking a spot next to Miller to politely listen in.

  “I’m not sure I agree with the direction you want to head, Margot. It’s obvious that this boy is highly disturbed. Is it in our best interest to indulge his behavior through bribes?” Phelps’ voice was colored with judgement, purple bags under his eyes suggesting he also experienced a long night.

  “We haven’t got a single word out of him since his arrival. I see no reason why we shouldn’t at least try. And it’s not a bribe, Robert. It’s cooperation.” Dr. Miller could tell that Phelps was not convinced. She sighed, and signaled to Rowan, the first acknowledgement of the day. “Tell me what you think, Dr. Platts?”

  Rowan stared, blank-faced for a moment, taken aback by the title she had just been given so inconspicuously. Miller never called her ‘doctor’ before, and just like that, it slipped into her speech as if it had always been there. The way she placed it was too deliberate, suggesting something else entirely to Rowan. This is what it could be like from now on.

  All Rowan had to do was be on Miller’s side.

  “We can’t allow the subject to die, and blood is the only substance he’s ingested so far. Denying it to him would be starving him.”

  Rowan hadn’t thought about how agreeing with Miller also meant opposing Phelps, and she only realized afterwards, when Phelps’ expression dropped to disappointment. Miller seemed perfectly pleased by the response though, like she was well aware that she forced Rowan to pick favorites and overjoyed to come out on top.

  “It’s settled then. Blood bribes it is.” She gave a playful smile as she placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder blade and led her along, approaching the wall that separated them from the containment room. “Let’s have a chat with this little bastard, shall we?”

  The shame rolling around in Rowan’s stomach was eased by Miller’s attention, reaffirming her decision. This is where she wanted to be: at Miller’s side, involved first hand with everything. If she had to step on a few toes to get there, so be it. Phelps would understand the situation she was in. Besides, she could apologize later for hurt feelings along the way.

  Rowan was not allowed any further time to dwell. Miller signalled to the technician, and as the folding wall slowly parted, the buzzing around the room hushed.

  Blood still painted the floor and glass, although it was further smudged from when she last saw it. The pattern suggested he used his hands to try and gather up a midnight snack. On the floor was the blood packet, now completely ripped opened and licked clean. Anyone who had not seen him drink from it directly would wonder if there had ever been liquid in it at all.

  The boy reclined on the mattress, now removed from its bent, bed frame and placed on the floor in the corner of the room. Dried blood flaked off his skin overnight, but the color absorbed into his pores, staining his fingers and around his mouth so they looked flushed. He pretended he didn’t know they were watching, but Rowan could see he had already focused his hearing. His neck straightened just slightly, his sharp gaze going blank as he listened. It was hard not to see what he was doing now that she witnessed it before.

  Miller received a ear piece, which she set in place. Once snug, she tapped it twice and spoke.

  “Good morning. My name is Dr. Margot Miller. I’m a biologist for The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention of the United States of America.” Miller folded her arms across her chest while she spoke, her voice casual and collected as it echoed through the telecom. “My normal research would usually be working on finding that pesky cure for cancer, but considering my knowledge for human biology, I’ve been assigned to this case in hopes I can figure you out. Since, as we all have seen, you’re a bit of a medical mystery, aren’t you?”

  In the other room, the boy blinked, but gave no reaction to her words.

  Miller continued, determined not let the subject’s silence rub her wrong. “You’re being held in the Eureka Center for Biological Studies, in Eureka, California. We took you into our custody on Monday morning after authorities were called with a report of five dead and one unconscious at a hospital in the next town over. Your handy work, we’re assuming?”

  This statement produced a reaction, the smallest smirk twitching onto the boy’s lips. It was only there for a moment, and if Rowan hadn’t seen it before, she would have wondered if it had even been there at all. It sent a chill along her spine, knowing he was laughing to himself over his murders.

  He didn’t say a word, though.

  “Let’s not play hard to get now. We know you speak and understand the English language, so you’re not fooling anyone by playing dumb.” Miller’s tone lowered a fraction from irritation.

  Once again, the subject didn’t even blink in their direction.

  Miller scoffed beside Rowan, impatient with the subject’s failure to comply. She glared behind her rimless lenses. “We want to ask you some questions, so we can find out a little more about you. But we can’t ask you questions if you’re not going to answer.” Miller paused, and when she once again received no response from the stubborn boy on t
he other side of the glass, she added the bribe. “Cooperate with us, and we’ll make sure your dietary needs are met.”

  Finally, a full acknowledgement. With Miller’s offer on the table, the boy flicked his gaze in their direction. The blacks of his eyes shined sinister entertainment, knotting up Rowan’s throat. Then, the boy stood, taking a few casual steps towards them, falling in and out of Rowan’s line of sight behind the blood stains swiped across the glass.

  From the look of it, his feast the day before greatly improved his health. In fact, he could have been mistaken for a different person entirely. With his strength back, he held his spine straight, increasing his perceived height by a few inches. His skin regained its color and moisture back, and the deep, black circles under his eyes shallowed.

  If he was able to throw a bed across the room before, when he seemed weak and feeble, now he could likely throw a house with little effort. That prospect made Rowan nervous, and the tension sat on the back of her neck. The ease he had in his pacing didn’t help. It seemed as though he could be through the glass at any moment if he so pleased. If that was the case though, wouldn’t he have already done it?

  He halted in front of the glass, facing Miller, because Rowan was sure he knew all along where each and every one of them stood. Rowan retreated involuntarily at his closeness, but Miller stood unmoved, not caving to the boy’s scare tactics.

  He let the silence linger a long time, soaking it up and enjoying the palpable tension in the room. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he opened his mouth and replied.

  “I’ll cooperate, Dr. Miller. I’ll answer any questions you have, but I have conditions of my own.” He stopped briefly, just to enjoy the stunned silence of the room, before finishing. “I’ll speak to the doctor who fed me. Face to face, no hiding behind walls. If you send anyone else in, I’ll kill them.”

  Chapter Ten

  The room erupted in objections, filling the air with a loud buzz of concern. For Rowan, it was ambiance, though. Her heart pounded in her ears far louder.

  On the other side of the glass, the boy smiled, the same dare in his eyes as the day before, only she knew what it meant now. When she delivered the blood to him, she’d started something. She solved a piece of him, revealed she knew one of his secrets. She went from just another victim to an opponent in a game, that look in his eyes saying your turn.

  His first move was as good as a checkmate, though, and he knew it. Despite her newfound resolve to stick with the project, she refused to go anywhere near those security doors again. He already scared her stiff with the glass wall separating them; she'd never survive entering that room, especially after the last ones to enter left bloodied and nearly dead.

  If he didn't kill her, her palpitating heart would.

  If she refused? No one would blame her, but the project would be at a standstill once again. The praise she so quickly became addicted to would disappear, along with the promise of success this project offered. Worst of all though, her questions wouldn’t have answers.

  Beside her, Phelps and Miller bickered again, bits of their heated debate working its way past Rowan’s considerations.

  “You are not sending that girl in there. She’s barely started her life, and you’re going to give her a death sentence.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Robert. No one is making anyone do anything. Of course we’re not going to send her in there, but what else do you suggest we do from here?”

  “We need to sedate him so we can take some samples. If we have samples, we don’t need to hear anything coming out of his mouth.”

  “And how do you suggest we sedate him? It took an excessive dose of morphine just to slow him down enough for us to get him here. And he took five others with him. He won’t be letting anyone else near him with a needle again."

  “It doesn’t matter. Whatever we do, we don’t need to be sending any more innocent people to their deaths. William barely survived your first suicide mission.”

  “We got him out, and he’s stable.”

  “He’ll be scarred for the rest of his life!”

  The undercurrent of panic in their argument spreaded around the room like wildfire. People's awe turned to fearful mutters, and weary glances in Rowan’s direction, waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

  This is what he wanted. Chaos. Fear. Not just her own now, but everyone’s around her. Watching him through the dirtied glass, she saw glee dancing in his eyes like flames. It entertained him to have so much control when he was locked up in isolation. It became clear to Rowan that he had every intention now to make this investigation as painful as possible for everyone involved.

  After all, how else was he suppose to rebel against his containment? All he had was their fear. Beyond it, he was nothing but an animal in a cage, puffing up his fur and trying to look big to keep them all scared.

  He was bluffing.

  At least, Rowan hoped he was, because she was about to do something extremely stupid.

  “I’ll do it.”

  The room silenced in shock at her words, then immediately erupted into outraged murmurs. It wasn’t the reaction of the other doctors she was waiting on, though.

  Rowan followed the boy inside the containment room as his eyebrow lifted, the smirk on his lips spreading even wider. She didn’t know what to make of the expression, but she hoped it was positive. She hoped she was playing his game to his satisfaction; if she amused him enough, maybe she’d live a few extra turns.

  Or just long enough to find out something useful.

  “What are you talking about, Rowan?” It was Phelps who voiced outrage first, bewildered by her idiotic resolve.

  Then Miller. “Please, Dr. Platts. Don’t feel like you have to do this. This is not your responsibility. We’ll think of something else. This is just too dangerous.”

  “I said I’ll do it.”

  Rowan looked at her mentors with fire in her eyes. Where she found that heat, she wasn’t sure. Only moments ago she was stone cold with terror, but now, she was hot with new resolve, much like when she banged on the glass in attempt to wipe the boy’s wicked laugh off his face after attacking William. Perhaps she just couldn’t stand him enjoying himself so much.

  “But why, Rowan?” Miller’s concern was palpable.

  “We have those bracelets right?” she asked, seeking out Miller for confirmation.

  The doctor raised her brow and sighed with disbelief. “Sure we do. If you wear one, theoretically he should be unable to touch you without triggering a shock, and that seems to be effectively disabling him so far.”

  Something about the way she worded her explanation was less than convincing, though. The subject had defied their expectations numerous times before, so there was no guarantee. Phelps lifted a hand to point out this flaw, but she interrupted before he could offer it.

  “I know the risks, doctors, but the bracelet is not my only safety net in this situation.” Rowan glanced into the containment room again, wanting to be sure that the fear-inducing maniac on the other side was listening. His gaze was sharp, focused on the spot that her rapid heart was beating. “I’m his only chance of getting out of here."

  Those blue eyes narrowed a fraction, confirming she had his attention.

  “If I go in there, he could very well kill me… But that won’t get him anywhere. If I’m killed, the project will be at a standstill again. At least by speaking to me, by leaving me alive, he has some chance left of no longer being a prisoner here.”

  Her logic was sound, but it was yet to be proven whether their contained subject followed logic and reason. Nevertheless, Rowan swayed a few people around her, including Dr. Miller.

  "You really want to do this?" She was still concerned, but behind it was that excitement she had trouble concealing. Even though Miller feared for Rowan’s safety, she couldn't help but be curious for the outcome.

  Just as Rowan was.

  Phelps silently urged her to reconsider, but she pretended not to notice. It hurt to go
against his wishes. Instead, Rowan nodded once to Miller, confirming this was her final decision. A few gasps circled the room, but otherwise, her colleagues stayed as quiet as ghosts.

  "I’m glad you decided to stay with us, Dr. Platts." Miller’s praise was too sugary, but it helped Rowan swallow the sour truth.

  She was absolutely terrified.

  The sound of the security door shutting behind her was solid. Final. The bracelet, clamped snug around her wrist like a handcuff, offered no comfort. Somewhere outside her shallow breathing, she heard Miller speaking through the telecom again.

  "We are sending in a doctor. You are to stay two yards away from her at all times. If you touch her, or do not cooperate, you will be immobilized. Do you understand, Subject?"

  The bloodied boy did not reply. Instead, there was an unsettling silence, then Rowan heard the loud, mechanical locks on the doors. Once behind her, shutting her in, and then in front, allowing access to the monster on the other side. Rowan swallowed down the sick feeling that rose in her throat, letting out a long exhale to try and calm herself.

  There was a low chuckle, then, dragging fingernails, lightly across the metal door in front of her.

  “Come out of your hole, little mouse. The cat wants to play.”

  His tone implied he was joking, but something sinister was also laced in it. It made the air catch in her throat, escaping in a hiss across a quivering lip. She twisted the cuff on her wrist with shaking fingers, trying to find her resolve again. She must have forgotten it in the previous room.

  Rowan closed her eyes, shaking off the fear that clung to her ankles like chains, and took a heavy step towards the door. Like Pandora, opening her box of chaos, Rowan reached for the heavy handle with a timid hand. She was damned, regardless of what happened after the door opened. It was the choice to open it that condemned her.

  She pushed the handle down and the latch gave, the door cracking a sliver from its frame. The pungent, metallic smell of blood assaulted her senses. She tasted it in the back of her throat, and it made her gag. Throwing a hand to her mouth, her small breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.