On the Edge of Humanity (26 page)

“Where’s Ben?” I screamed.

“He’s not going to hear you,” Dr. Case said through gritted teeth.

All the blood rushed to my feet. “You better not—”

“Or?” He stopped dragging me, his hand still wrapped around my left arm as he glared at me. “You and me are going downstairs to have a chat. If you stay calm, we’ll get through this relatively quickly.”

I had no clue what he wanted. Whatever it was sounded ominous. I had to think of something quickly. He could be part of the Plutariums, but did that mean he was a vampire? I couldn’t be sure.

“Are we going to stay here and ogle each other or are we going downstairs to dance?” I asked.

“You really are a smart ass. Figures for a teenager.” He began pulling me again, only this time his grip was slightly weaker.

I jerked away my arm, and with lightning speed, he grabbed hold of my throat.
Maybe he is a vamp.

I clawed at his hands, but his grip only tightened. This wasn’t working. So I did the one thing that worked for me before with Cliff and Blake. I jabbed my knee into his crotch, not once, but twice. He released me immediately, planting his hands between his legs.

“You little bitch,” he gasped.

I ran out of the room and down the stairs, gagging, trying to get oxygen back into my lungs. Once at the bottom I peered around the banister, still massaging my neck. The door to the basement was ajar. A dank smell wafted through the crack and my stomach lurched.

My Spidey sense warned me not to go down there, but I had to find Ben.

I stepped off the last stair and walked under the stairwell. I looked up at the ceiling as if it were a cross and muttered, “God help me.”

“God isn’t going to help you.”

I pivoted and Dr. Case stood at the base of the banister. I was screwed. The only exit was the basement, unless I kicked him in the balls again and ran out the front door. I didn’t move as I weighed my options. Did the basement have an exit to the backyard?

“Go ahead. Run. Run down there.” He flicked his chin towards the basement door.

I stepped backwards, eyes trained on him. I took in a breath, turned, picked up my right foot and ran, stopping abruptly at the top step—the only step. I shrieked, grabbing onto the sawed off railing, which prevented me from plunging to my death.

Where were the rest of the stairs? A light glowed from below. Ben’s voice echoed, sounding muffled. How did he get down there?

Before I could react, Dr. Case wrapped one arm around my waist and the other around my mouth, dragging me down the hallway into the front viewing room. He opened the door and threw me in, sending me stumbling across the floor. I landed inches from the now open coffin.
Shit!

I quickly crawled in the other direction, trying to get as far away from the ghastly thing. I rested my head against the sill of the stained glass window, thinking about my next move. I had no recourse as Dr. Case jammed a chair under the doorknob. It was Dr. Case and me, and I sensed we were going to dance.

I stood up and pushed off the wall when he stalked toward me.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jo. I only want to talk.”

“Then talk,” I said as I stepped around him, making my way to the other side of the room.

“You do want to tango. Interesting,” he said as he followed me.

“I’m not sure what a Plutarium wants with me. I have nothing to offer.” I kept dodging him, slipping from his grip every now and then. It was like we were playing tag in the schoolyard.

“So, you figured it out, did you?” he asked.

“Figured what out?” I didn’t want to give away how much I knew.

He stopped in the middle of the room, put his hands in his jean pockets and stood there. He stared at me intently, his gaze menacing.

I rested against a sidewall, waiting for him to make a move.

He cocked his head to one side and said, “You really do look like him.”

Was he talking about Sam?

“Of course we do. We’re twins,” I shot back.

Okay not identical in features, but we shared a lot of the same qualities. Our hair was the same color and texture. Our lips were the same. We had the same nose and, as I learned last week, we had a lot of the same physical changes going on. The only difference that I was aware of other than gender was the color of our eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about Sam. I was talking about your father.”

My jaw dropped. Why was the common thread always my father?

I slid down the wall, all my muscles weak and dropped my head in my hands.

Who didn’t know my father? I wanted to raise my hand like a little schoolgirl and shout,
I don’t know my father. Am I the only one?

My desire to kill or mangle my absent dad grew stronger as the hours and days passed. I raised my head and Dr. Case towered over me with his hand extended.

“Get away from me,” I snapped.

“I want to help you. I know he abandoned you. I can tell by your expression that you’re not fond of him either.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I’m not playing cat and mouse with you anymore.” Dr. Case yanked me up. “I don’t have time for this.” He let go of me. Within a second, he reached around my waist with his right arm then dropped his left arm, reaching under my knees and lifted me up as if he were carrying me over the threshold on our wedding night.

“Put me down.” I squirmed, trying to get free as he carried me to the coffin. Was he going to put me in there? “There’s no way I’m getting in that,” I shouted.

He positioned my body over the coffin, bent down and placed me in it. The casket had two covers independent of each other to allow one part to cover the bottom half of the dead person or, in my case, the live one. Dr. Case closed the bottom half and knelt down on the makeshift altar in front of it.

“You’re fucking crazy.” I sat up and grabbed onto the closed lid, struggling to open it. “Get me out of this thing right now!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Dr. Case rose, pushed me back down, reached over me and placed his hand on the top cover. With one hand on the lid and his other hand on my chest, he said, “I’ll close this and walk away. I just want to talk.”

“Fuck you!”

“You leave me no choice. Besides, it will be better this way—tit for tat.” Then he lowered the lid.

“No. Don’t!” I begged. “I’ll listen. What did you mean by tit for tat? Please, Dr. Case, open the lid.”

He raised the lid slightly and glared down at me. “This is revenge for your father killing my sister,” he said, and as he released his hand, the lid slammed shut.

“You’re an asshole. I’m going to kill you,” I shouted, but my voice was muffled.

“Keep talking. Expend all your air. It’ll make for a quicker death.”

I lay in the dark, satin enclosure, panic setting in. My body shook uncontrollably as my claustrophobia kicked in. I took the deepest breath I could, tears streaming down my face. This was my father’s fault. Everything bad in my life was a result of something my father did: foster care, vampires and now this crazy doctor who wanted revenge.

I hated the man responsible for me being born.

“Dr. Case? Dr. Case? Are you out there? I’m sorry,” I called out. I closed my eyes and listened.

Only silence. Dead silence. Did he leave?

I banged and kicked hoping he was still in the room. I screamed several times, the sound muffled by all the fabric inside. I didn’t know what to do.

“Stay calm,” I muttered.

The more I tried to stay calm, the more my heart rate sped up. It was as if my heart were about to fly out of my chest, sprinting to the finish line.

“Please, God, let me get out of here. I’ve been a good girl. It’s the bad people around me who treat me like this. Please help me,” I said into the dark, morbid coffin.

My breathing became shallow and my eyelids were getting heavy.

I didn’t want to die before I found Sam.

Chapter 16

A
pain seared through my chest
as if a heavy weight was pressed against it. A man’s voice filled the air, counting from one to five. I couldn’t breathe through my nose. Someone or something pinched my nostrils together. Then a hand gently grabbed my mouth and hot air entered as if someone were trying to kiss me. My chest heaved with every breath that entered my lungs. My eyes fluttered opened, then closed.

“Where’s Dr. Vieira?” a familiar man’s voice called out.

“Jo?” A hand tapped my cheek then pulled my left eyelid open. “Jo. Wake up.” He tapped my cheek again.

I opened my eyes and a blanket of haze clouded my vision. I blinked several times, trying to clear it. The ceiling above spun as if I were I riding on a merry-go round.

My abdominal muscles contracted, then an intense pressure gripped my stomach. Vomit threatened, creeping up into the back of my throat. After several contractions, the pain eased, giving way to clear liquid filling my mouth, seeping out, and dripping down my neck.

“Sit her up. Now,” a new male voice commanded. His voice was familiar too.

A hand slipped under my back and raised me forward. Then another hand grabbed hold of my wrist and pressed fingers on it.

“Her pulse is weak. We need to get her back to headquarters, but I don’t want to move her just yet,” the male voice said. “Olivia, get me a bottle of water from the van.”

As if a pressure relief valve opened, I grabbed my stomach and heaved again, soaking my jeans. The dizziness slowed, the room righted itself. I drew in a breath and looked around.

Tripp stood to my left, watching Dr. Vieira who was kneeling down, fingers touching my wrist. Webb sat on his heels on my right, holding my back for support.

“Where’s Ben?” I asked, looking at Webb.

“He’s fine,” Webb replied.

“How long was I in the…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“We’re not sure. But it couldn’t have been longer than two hours or else you’d be dead,” Dr. Vieira replied.

“What happened?” Webb asked.

“Why don’t you ask, Dr. Case? Where is he?” I asked.

“He’s on his way to the lock-up at headquarters,” Webb said. He glanced at Dr. Vieira. “Can we get her out of here now?”

“Her pulse is stronger. Let’s get her into the van. The fresh air may help.” Dr. Vieira rose, grabbed the water bottle from Olivia who was now standing next to Tripp and handed it to me. “Here. I want you to finish two bottles of water before you get back to headquarters. There’s more in the van.”

I grabbed the water bottle, then Tripp and Webb gently eased me upright. The walls around me rushed in and I staggered. Before I could take another step, Tripp picked me up and cradled me in his arms.

I was grateful it was Tripp. Maybe his touch would ease the dizziness. At the very least he would calm me. As he carried me out, I peeked over his shoulder and Webb stood near the ghastly coffin, examining it. What was he looking for?

Olivia walked up to the altar, bent over and picked up a small object. She turned it over several times before handing it to Webb, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

“Watch your head,” Tripp said as he walked us through the door into the sitting area.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I pressed my cheek on his shoulder.

He stopped walking, turned his head slightly and said, “You shouldn’t have run. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” The muscle in his jaw ticked. “You scared the crap out of us.”

Did the hard core Navy SEAL vampire have a heart with emotions? His expression told me he did, but part of me had a hard time believing his sincerity. After all, Dr. Vieira’s message last night in the war room was clear. I was essential to the outcome of their mission.

“You mean vampires get scared?” I asked with a hint of a smile.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he said.

I wasn’t, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to talk with Tripp. The only time he usually spoke was when he yelled at Ben and me or told me what to do. Engaging in an actual, normal conversation with him was like talking to a rock sometimes.

“Is Sloan okay?” I asked afraid of his answer.

“He lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be fine.” Tripp resumed carrying me to the van.

“Where’s Ben?” I asked. My voice broke up as Tripp climbed down the porch steps.

“He’s back at headquarters.” Tripp set me down in one of the seats in the back of the van and strapped me in as if I were a toddler.

I sat there waiting for him to get into the van, but he didn’t move. He stood sentinel, waiting for the other team members to emerge.

“Tripp?”

He slid me a sideways glance.

“Any news on Sam?” I asked, staring at him, waiting for him to answer.

As if hours passed, he finally said, “I’ll let Lt. London answer that.”

What did that mean? If they didn’t have news on Sam, Tripp would’ve said no, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t have hesitated.

I shuddered. Was it good news or bad news?

I hated walking through those large steel doors again. I hated everything about the Sentinels’ Headquarters from the cement structure and the stark white floors to the draconian feel to the place. The only things that had me moving my legs and me step over into the cold reception area was the potential news about Sam and to make sure Ben was okay.