Page 20 of Sergi (Of Blood & Dreams #7)

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, I was grateful they delivered breakfast in my cell. I wasn’t fit to be around shifters, knowing what I knew of the latest experiment. I imagined sitting at one of the tables, staring through the frosted glass at our keepers on the other side as a pack of wolves descended on them. Mostly, I didn’t want anyone to see the anger brewing inside. I was usually good at maintaining a blank expression, especially after eleven months—or had it been a year now?—playing my role as a subservient slave. I didn’t think I could hold it in anymore.

I’d eaten the porridge quickly, then laid out the long belt made from the strips of my extra shift. I had spare material that I’d ripped into smaller pieces to wrap the individual vials to prevent them from making noise or breaking. I stared at the fourteen vials of blood and the single vial of BP-X. If that didn’t give Sergi a boost, I wasn’t sure what else I could do.

I wrapped each vial and tucked them into the long makeshift pocket I’d created by doubling the material in the belt. Once the vials seemed secure, I tied the belt around my waist, then slipped my shift on. It felt snug, but to be sure, I moved around, bending, stretching, and then walking. The material had loosened, and I re-tightened it then tested my movements again.

Better.

I sat on the bed and waited for the guard to take me to level three. Within minutes, the jitters began. What if they decided to keep me locked up today? No. Breakfast had arrived less than thirty minutes ago. I sucked in a long, deep breath before slowly releasing it, attempting to stop the pacing of my wolf, and I continued the exercise until she quieted.

When the billy club hit my door I jumped but remained sitting on the corner of my bed with my head down. The door creaked open, and I glanced up, surprised to see Dallas from level three.

“Come, girl. You have a busy day ahead of you.” He backed up, the billy club clutched to his chest.

I stood, wondering why he’d come upstairs rather than meet me on level three. Alarm bells went off in my head, but I pushed them aside. I wanted to ask, and while he might have answered, I decided to appear sullen. It wasn’t difficult. After bearing witness to yesterday’s experiment, it would be expected.

My nerves rattled as we walked through the halls, and I didn’t relax until we descended the stairs to the third level.

“We’re short-staffed today due to training. Follow your normal routine and don’t stray. Do you understand?”

They were still short-staffed? That made me curious, but I nodded as the last of my anxiety drained away. My plan was back on track. I rushed my cleaning of the cells, eager to check on Carlos.

He wasn’t in his cell.

It didn’t mean anything. They must have moved him to level two, but as I pushed the cart down the hall toward Sergi’s cell, the anxiety returned. It wasn’t the good kind—the restlessness that hit just before a difficult assignment. The jumpiness that even though I was more than prepared, the butterflies remained to focus me.

This was the disquiet that spoke of something gone wrong.

The feeling of doubt doubled when I reached the last hallway and found Sergi’s cell door open. Had they taken him somewhere, too? Oh god, my plan was crumbling by the minute. I should have made a decision sooner. Taken the chance.

When I grew closer, I heard a low growl, followed by a howl, and then the sound of flesh on flesh. I sighed with relief and held in a hysterical laugh. He wasn’t gone. He was getting his morning beating.

I stopped the cart and peered in.

Gheata punched Sergi in the kidneys, and I took a step back.

It wasn’t Sergi anymore. It was his beast.

I’d once seen a vampire who’d completely lost his mind to his beast. His body had morphed into something unrecognizable. He’d been almost seven feet tall, even with his hunched back. His head was misshapen, and his hands were nothing more than vicious claws. Two other vampires—Eliminators—had put him down.

I recalled what my uncle had said. The vampire had been drugged with something and had become too dangerous to save. Or it had been simpler to take him down and pretend it never happened. Had that incident been from Magic Poppy? I hadn’t heard the term before Sergi named it, so maybe my uncle hadn’t known.

Sergi hadn’t completely morphed into that state, but his face had changed. It was still him, but his forehead had thickened, forcing his brows lower. His fingernails were long, more claw-like, and he howled again. His eyes burned a bright red as if he’d been spawned in hell.

Gheata appeared gleeful as he punched Sergi in the ribs. “This is more like it. Let it all go. Bring out the beast.”

The beatings were making Sergi’s beast angry, forcing it to push past what defenses Sergi had built to keep it down. It didn’t matter now. The beast was winning.

I panicked. This had to stop, but how? If I had one of those billy clubs, I’d show Gheata a thing or two about beatings.

All I had was my cart, and I rammed it into the doorway. It wasn’t much, but I hoped to get Gheata’s attention. Not that I wanted the asshole to start beating me, but a distraction was in order.

It worked. Gheata turned his gaze on me, and I stepped back, almost tripping over my clumsy slippers.

“What do you want, girl?” At first, it was apparent I’d surprised him. Then recognition hit, and he stood straighter, turning his back to the beast. He rubbed his fist, then pulled a rag from the table and wiped the blood off his hands. He’d reopened a deep gash in Sergi’s side that hadn’t completely healed.

He stormed toward me, and I took another step back before he shoved the bloody rag at me. “I want this cell spotless. The director wants to see our new beast, and he doesn’t like to step in blood.”

I nodded, keeping my head low.

He didn’t move, and I waited, tensing in case he decided to hit me after all. But all he said was, “God, I can’t wait to get out of this dump.”

He brushed past me, his shoulder hitting me with enough force to knock me off-balance. I remained standing and glared at his back until he rounded the corner and was gone.

I stepped inside the cell. Drool ran down Sergi’s chin, and he chafed against the metal bands. Had his beast loosened them? When the beast lunged again, I focused on the bolts holding the bands in place. Had they moved?

I swallowed and took several more steps, staying an arm’s reach away. The beast glared at me, and I almost peed myself when it roared, his fangs fully extended.

I was too late. Sergi was gone. The beast had won.

Once Gheata left, Sergi struggled to pull the beast back, but the beast, starved and filled with rage, fought back. When the female stepped through the doorway and approached, the beast howled once more, then something strange happened.

The beast lifted its head and sniffed the air. It whined, and Sergi, who was sweating with the effort to pull it back, was shocked by the sudden change. Bit by bit, the beast calmed and settled back, allowing Sergi to regain full control.

The hunger still clawed at them, and if he didn’t feed soon, not even this shifter would be enough to soothe the beast.

In his hundreds of years, he’d been the only one with the ability to satisfy his beast. Yet this female had done the impossible simply by walking into the room. Maybe she brought more blood. He followed her movements as she cleaned his blood from the floor, dusted the table of torture instruments, and dumped the waste bin.

Every few seconds, her eyes flicked to him, but not in fear. If anything, it seemed like curiosity. Interesting.

Once she’d replaced the water, she moved toward him, her steps tentative, and her steady gaze never left his body. He flinched when she touched the gash where Gheata had sliced him. It had been one of Gheata’s techniques to anger Sergi, or more accurately, to encourage the beast to come out.

Sergi could have kept the beast at bay, but Gheata had to believe him weak. And while it had been the right move, the beast had been more powerful than Sergi expected. When the physical change began, he wasn’t sure he could pull the beast back.

He would have eventually won, but the female saved him the energy it would have required. He grimaced when she touched a bruise along his ribs, but when her fingers moved over his tattoos, his skin tingled. Her fingers were warm, soft, and light as a dove’s feather and triggered shivers along his skin.

“You need more blood.” She turned away and rushed to the doorway. Satisfied they were alone, she walked to a corner and pulled up her shift, revealing long, lean legs. There had been muscle there at one time.

“How long have you been here?”

She spun around, a makeshift belt hung from her hand, and her shift settled over her knees. “You can talk.” She took a step closer. “And you’re eyes are clear.”

“The beast has settled.” He heaved a heavy breath. “Gheata had to believe his potion was working. It’s a struggle to keep my beast quiet, but the blood and Blood Poppy you gave me seems to be helping. But the hunger will eventually do what the Magic Poppy hasn’t been able to.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” She laid the belt on the table and unwrapped it. His eyes widened as he watched her pull out one vial, then another, and another until there were fourteen vials on the table. Then she placed a fifteenth one off to the side. “It’s been a year since I was sent to find the lab.”

“What?”

“How long I’ve been here.”

“A year without shifting?”

She picked up a vial and strode to him. “We’re not allowed to shift, and it comes with severe punishment if we do.” She shrugged. “The cells don’t have cameras, so the guards don’t know what we do at night.” She gave him a quirk of a smile. “I only do it once a week, sometimes less, sometimes more, depending on the need.” She opened the vial. “Now, open up.”

He opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the drops of blood fell on his tongue. She had to stand on tiptoes as he leaned his head back so he wouldn’t lose a drop. It was stale but not too old to have lost critical nutrients. He needed fresh blood, but this would do for now.

All but one of the vials had been emptied, and she wrapped them in her belt and took them to her cart, most likely hiding them in the trash. Would she be able to get more?

When she returned, she picked up the last vial. “A trusted friend gave me this. From what he overheard, this should revitalize you. I was suspicious, but my friend tells me a couple of lab assistants were tempted to try it.” She shrugged and brought it to him. “This is labeled BP-X. I don’t know what the X means, and it wasn’t on the first vial I gave you.” She held up the vial so he could see the label. There was a date behind the name, but it meant little to him since he’d lost track of how long he’d been captive.

“How old?”

“A little over a week. This has obviously been modified, but I don’t know how. And I have no idea what this might do with the Magic Poppy already in your system. This could help you, make you worse, or possibly kill you.” She looked up at him. “This has to be your decision.”

At first glance, her expression was one of doubt. He looked past it to the worry in her eyes. For a split second, he caught a blush of the tell-tale sign of a shifter’s red-eyed glow. Something else bothered her. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Tears instantly erupted, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but a few slipped past her defenses. Her lips tightened while her eyes darted around the cell. Like a teapot blowing off steam, the words tumbled out—a new experiment, a shifter partially morphed, unable to talk or shift back, his temperament dulled by drugs, the ability to force him into a snarling rage. The shifter probably lost forever to the drugs.

Sergi considered her story. A shifter physically changed, and their behavior controlled by the push of a button. A vampire addicted to Magic Poppy until they could no longer control their beast. He was beginning to see a pattern.

When her tears dried, she gripped his arm. “I can’t let it happen again. I won’t be able to hold back my wolf.”

Without hesitation, he said, “Give me the Blood Poppy.” When she looked doubtful, he gave her part of his plan that was coming together as they spoke. “When the beast battled for control, I felt the metal band give. If you can use one of those instruments to pry the bolts loose, I can do the rest. The question is what to do once I’m free. Were you able to confirm where the command center is?”

“Yes. It’s where I told you, but there’s something else you need to know.” She told him about the hidden back door. “It’s on this level. All you have to do is go through it.”

A back door. That was unexpected, but it shouldn’t have been. The door might not have been used in decades, but Venizi always had an escape route.

“Oh, I almost forgot. The guard said they were short on staff. Something about training, but they’ve been light on guards for the last couple of days.”

“We won’t have a better opportunity. But I need that Blood Poppy.” He nodded toward her hand.

She hesitated, then opened the vial and poured it on his tongue, ensuring not a drop was wasted. “I’ll have to hurry. The guard will come for me if I’m not at the stairs on time.” She found a metal tool with a thin, sharp edge at the tip. He flinched, remembering Gheata’s creative use for it. She wedged it under the bolt that held the band in place. She pried it several times before moving to the next one. With each loosened bolt, he felt a gentle release.

“That’s enough. Do the ones holding my arms.”

“Are you sure?”

When all he did was give her a grim smile, she didn’t hesitate. She was working on the second to last bolt when boots echoed in the hall, growing close.

Her eyes widened, and she raced to the table to dust off the end of the tool. She laid it in the exact position she’d found it, then picked up the mug of water and stepped toward the door. As the boots drew close, she spun around and slowly walked back to the table as if she was just bringing it back with fresh water.

“What’s taking so long?” The guard stepped in, and she jumped at his words.

If she had faked the response, she was good. Sergi had noticed over the last few days how intelligent she was, how quick she worked the bolts, and how courageous to have stolen and hidden the vials. She must be one of Remus’s best warriors, maybe from one of the local packs. He would do whatever he could to return her home.

A tremor in her voice was accentuated with her bowed head. “I’m sorry. There was more blood than I was expecting.”

The guard studied Sergi, who had lowered his head to watch the male through his lashes.

The male’s gaze focused on the new cuts in Sergi’s body, and he nodded. “Finish up. I’ll be at the stairs.”

He turned away as Alex picked up an already-emptied waste bin. The guard had walked away, but she carried it to the door, peered out, then disappeared. She was probably dumping the vial she’d hidden in her fist.

When she returned, she gave the room a last look, then turned to him. “If you can get free, get to the door. There are wild shifters out there, so you have to be careful.” She paused and appeared to want to say something, but he sensed she’d changed her mind on what she’d been about to say. “Get away from this place and find us help.”

Before he could ask what she was going to do, she gave him a last glance. “And my name is Alex.”

Then she was gone.