Page 58 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

DESMOND

I screamed for a long, long time.

Everything else dropped away. The tight plastic bands around my wrists and ankles. The hard chair cushion against the back of my body. Even Henrika intently studying my reactions while Bryce grinned with glee at my suffering.

All I was aware of was the Redburn poison burning through my veins, scorching every single part of me.

Head, fingers, chest, toes. I half expected them all to erupt with actual flames, and yet that wouldn’t have been as painful as the unending agony pumping through my body with every frantic, fluttering beat of my heart.

No flames appeared, but my skin grew redder and redder, as though I’d developed a sudden severe sunburn.

My hands and fingers took on a bright sheen, and my skin grew tight, as though it was a too-small suit stitched onto my body.

The tightness intensified, along with the redness, until blisters erupted on my skin.

The blisters grew larger and larger, even as the neon-red burns spread across my body, eating through one layer of flesh after another.

I wasn’t a lobster being boiled alive in a pot of water. I was in the center of an erupting volcano, caught in a geyser of lava that kept exploding over and over.

Through it all, I could feel my galvanism working overtime, right along with the rest of my body, trying to turn the poison into usable energy.

I knew that I shouldn’t reach for my power, shouldn’t use it in any way, but the pain was so great I couldn’t stop myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut to hide the telltale glow of my power, but I was in such agony that I couldn’t quite get a grip on my galvanism, and my magic dropped down into that erupting volcano of pain.

Eventually, my screams died down. The pain hadn’t lessened, but I had lost my voice, and I barely had the strength to breathe.

Henrika watched through all my shrieking screams and raspy gurgles, scribbling notes on a pad. She kept the camera trained on me the whole time, while sensors embedded in the chair recorded my blood pressure, pulse rate, oxygen level, and more.

As a cleaner, I’d sustained my fair share of injuries, both during training and on missions.

I’d been shot, stabbed, cut, hammered, and bludgeoned, but all those injuries had paled in comparison to the Redburn explosion, which was the worst pain I’d ever endured.

The modified Redburn poison was a close second, though.

The torture, the agony, the relentless burning in my veins went on and on and on . . .

I must have finally blacked out, because sometime later, the soft, steady beep-beep-beep of a heart-rate monitor roused me back to consciousness. I cracked open my eyes, which were as dry and scratchy as sandpaper.

Henrika’s face swam into view. I recoiled, but I was still strapped down to the chair so I couldn’t go anywhere.

“Fascinating,” she murmured, shining a penlight into my eyes. “You’re already recovering from the poison.”

I blinked dully at the bright light. I tried to speak, but my tongue was thick, numb, and heavy, and I couldn’t form any words. That was probably for the best. My mind was spinning around and around, and I had no idea what secrets I might spill to stop her from injecting more poison into my body.

Henrika lowered the light and tilted her head to the side, studying me even more closely. “There’s no way an enduro with a moderate level of power could have survived all those bombs on the beach in Australia or had such a mild reaction to the dose of poison I just gave him.”

Mild reaction? I’d thought my bones were melting.

“So what?” Bryce asked, hovering behind her shoulder.

Henrika tapped the penlight on her lips. “So either Desmond is the most powerful enduro I’ve ever encountered . . .”

My gut clenched. Somehow I knew what she was going to say next.

Henrika dropped the penlight, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Or Mr. Percy has some other paramortal power that is keeping him alive.”

Bryce blinked, as though the thought had never occurred to him that I might be more than what I said I was.

Henrika glanced over at the former cleaner. “Did Desmond ever show any unusual abilities on your missions? Did you ever hear any whispers at Section 47 that he was more than just an enduro?”

Bryce’s face scrunched up, and my gut twisted again. But after several seconds, he shook his head. “Nothing that I remember.”

Henrika turned around and leaned a little closer to me. “What are you hiding, Desmond? What other abilities do you have?”

An eager note crept into her voice, as though she had just made some wonderful scientific discovery. I had to grind my teeth to hold back a shudder of revulsion.

“What does the data say?” Henrika asked.

Bryce glanced at the monitors, then shrugged. “It all just looks like random numbers and gibberish. Come figure it out for yourself—”

Beep-beep-beep.

A series of sharp warning chimes sounded. I blinked. What was that?

Bryce hurried over to a laptop. His fingers flew over the keys, and he let out a vicious curse. “Charlotte Locke is in the main tunnel. How did she find us?”

He hit some more keys. The data on the monitors vanished, replaced by security feeds. I dragged my bleary gaze over to the screens. Sure enough, Charlotte was creeping down a corridor, a gun in her hand.

Charlotte was here.

My heart lifted with hope, but it crashed back down just as quickly.

Worry surged up to take its place, burning through me just as swiftly and viciously as Henrika’s cruel formula.

Charlotte might have come here to save me, but she’d put herself in more danger than ever before.

I couldn’t let Bryce capture her. I couldn’t let Henrika inject Charlotte with the Redburn poison.

I would not let that happen, no matter what it cost me.

Once again, I flexed my hands and feet, and once again, the plastic bands around my wrists and ankles didn’t move an inch. I had to find some way to get out of this chair. I had to find some way to kill Henrika and Bryce before they could do to Charlotte what they had just done to me.

Henrika shrugged, as though the news was troubling but not unexpected. “Ms. Locke is quite brilliant, and perhaps even more tenacious. She must have realized we never left the mountain. After that, it wouldn’t have taken her long to figure out we had literally gone underground.”

“What do you want to do?” Bryce asked.

Henrika chewed on her lower lip. “How many intruders are in the facility?”

Bryce tapped a few more keys. “Looks like three so far. Locke, along with a man and a woman.”

Henrika nodded, as if she had been expecting the information. “Charlotte only brought a few friends instead of an entire strike team. She doesn’t trust Jethro Percy any more than I do. Maybe we can still salvage something out of this situation.”

“What do you want to do?” Bryce repeated.

Henrika stood up, strode over to a shelf along the wall, and grabbed a silver briefcase. She snapped it open, revealing black foam padding inside, then pulled several syringes and vials out of the industrial refrigerators.

“I’ll take the most important samples with me. The rest of it can burn. I’m not leaving anything behind for Jethro Percy to get his hands on. That arrogant bastard has already stolen enough of my work.”

I frowned, my muddled mind trying to make sense of her words. When had my father stolen her work? And why?

Bryce nodded. “Understood. I’ll alert the guards and start the evacuation and self-destruct procedures.”

Henrika nodded back and closed the briefcase.

“What do you want to do about him?” Bryce jerked his thumb at me.

Henrika grabbed the briefcase, then walked over and stared down at me with a dispassionate expression. “We could take Desmond with us. I’d love to conduct more tests on him.”

My breath seized in my throat. I wouldn’t survive any more tests. My body would finally give out, or my mind, or both, and I’d start begging for mercy and spill every Section secret I knew.

“But we don’t have time to knock him out again,” Henrika continued in a regretful tone. “Leave him here. He can burn with everything else.”

Henrika leaned down and grabbed my chin. Her fingers dug into my burned skin, and she wrenched my head from side to side, still staring at me with that dispassionate expression. “It’s a pity our time is being cut short, Desmond. You’ve been a marvelous test subject.”

She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “I do hope you figure out a way to escape and save Charlotte. Ms. Locke is a worthy adversary, and I don’t have nearly enough of those. Call me a sentimental fool, but I’m rooting for you two crazy lovebirds.”

I blinked, once again struggling to process her words. Why would Henrika want me to escape and save Charlotte? What game was she playing now?

Henrika winked at me, then released my chin. Still carrying the briefcase, she strode through the open door and left the lab.

I stared at the open door, but Henrika didn’t return. Bryce kept tapping keys on the laptop. I studied the monitors, trying to learn everything I could about the layout and the number of guards.

Several men with guns ran through the corridors, but I couldn’t tell whom they might be chasing. Charlotte was still moving through the main corridor, which seemed to run the length of the facility.

The sight of Charlotte cut through the rest of the dull fog cloaking my mind. Once again, I struggled against the wrist and ankle restraints, and once again, I went nowhere. I swallowed a frustrated growl and redoubled my efforts. I had to get out of this chair and help Charlotte.

Crack!

Crack! Crack!

Crack!

The distinctive sounds of gunfire zipped through the air. On the monitor, Charlotte stopped. I flinched, thinking she’d been shot, but after a few long, tense seconds, she raised her gun a little higher and moved forward, her pace much quicker than before.