Page 35 of Through the Veil (Endangered Fae #2)

He was studiously ignored as the group moved on down the hall.

A few rooms down, they stopped again, this time in front of a window looking into a hospital-style room with a single bed and a collection of monitors and equipment.

A small, hairless figure lay curled in a tight ball on the bed, shivering.

Diego stared, horror creeping through him as he realized what he saw.

They had shaved off all Sionnach’s hair, his glorious auburn waves shorn off, his beautiful, bushy tail reduced to a rat’s naked string, his legs and dainty fox-feet devoid of fur.

“And what’s this supposed to be?” he choked out.

“Pharmaceutical and toxicity trials,” the older scientist answered as he took down the chart from the wall and leafed through it. “Oxycontin, I believe was scheduled this morning. Ah, yes, that’s it.”

On the bed, Sionnach twitched and curled tighter around his stomach.

“Their bodies don’t always react like ours,” Diego began.

“Oh, yes, we’ve seen that.”

“And his hair? Why did you have to take his hair and fur?” Diego fought against tightening his hands into fists. The little fox fae would feel the humiliation as strongly as any pain.

“For hygienic purposes initially,” the younger scientist answered. “But it has an astounding rate of re-growth. We’re monitoring the effects of various substances on the growth rate as well.”

“Could I speak to him?” Comfort him, let him know he’s not alone and that his love still lives.

“I’m sorry, but no. Access to this room is strictly controlled.”

“Sionnach, do you hear me?” No answer came back, though, with Sionnach either too far under the drugs or too hampered by whatever blocked the flows of magic.

On down the hall they trooped to the next stop, no better than the last two.

A sign beside the door read ‘control subject’, which should have implied that the person inside had been spared any injury or indignity. This was not the case.

Nathair knelt in the far corner of the room, his back to the window, one arm shackled to the wall. He had stretched to the limit of his joints and the chain as if he might pull free by sheer will alone. A cot hung from the wall, but this, too, he avoided as far as he could.

“ Madre de dios ,” Diego spat out. “You idiots. Let me in there. Now, damn it!”

Gerry made a little gesture toward the general, who gave a terse nod. “Let Mr. Sandoval in to see the subject, gentlemen. Sergeant, you stay out here.”

“But—”

“Stand down, Sergeant!” the general barked out.

With the door opened, Diego pushed against his wheels and made his slow way into the room, his arms shaking by the time he reached his friend. Nathair cried out when Diego touched his shoulder, yanking desperately on his chain.

“It’s me. Shh, hush. Let me see.” Diego’s eyes blurred with tears at the deep burns on Nathair’s wrist from the steel cuff. “God, how stupid can they be?”

With shaking hands, he tore a strip from his blanket and tucked it between the metal and Nathair’s skin.

Panting, Nathair turned to watch him with dazed, red-rimmed eyes.

His shining green scales reduced to a dull gray, his face drawn with pain, he pulled his lips back from his teeth in a weak snarl.

“Nathair…it’s me,” Diego murmured, stroking his shoulder.

“Diego?” Nathair whispered, his soft, fluid voice hoarse and ragged. “Are we leaving?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I wish we were. I’m being held here, too. For now. But maybe I can help you a little. And I have something you need to hear.” Diego slid out of the chair to sit on the floor. He took Nathair in his arms to whisper in his ear. “Faolchú lives. I saw him slip into the Dreaming.”

Nathair’s eyes snapped open wide and he leaned against Diego with a whimper.

“You need to hang on. We’ll get you out somehow. And back to him.” Diego turned his head toward the door and shouted. “You have to switch out this cuff! It’s an iron allergy. It’s killing him. Aluminum, plastic, anything but steel.”

Two of the uniformed security troops appeared in the doorway. They strode forward, picked Diego up as if he weighed no more than a bit of lint, and deposited him back in his chair.

“Please listen to me! Just this one thing!” he protested as they shoved him toward the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Sandoval. We’ll take care of it,” the general said with a gesture to the two men.

They threw Nathair face down on the floor, the larger one with his knee planted firmly in the center of his back.

“Diego! Help me!”

His weak, terrified cry had Diego out of his chair. He clutched the doorframe for support, his trembling legs threatening to pitch him to the floor. “Stop it! Let him up! He’s not a threat to you—he’s a gardener for Christ’s sake!”

“You’re getting overwrought, Mr. Sandoval,” the elder scientist said with what could have been real concern. “Maybe the sergeant should get you back to bed.”

But the goons had the cuff off now and Nathair had passed out, perhaps from relief.

“No, please. I’m sorry. I just…” He sank back into his chair like a good patient. “There should be one more?”

“Yes,” Gerry answered with an unreadable expression. “There’s one more.”

They turned down another corridor where a shift occurred in the atmosphere.

Guards stood watch at every heavy, steel door.

The equipment, the expressions of the staff hurrying by, all had a more solid, serious appearance.

A cold hand gripped Diego’s heart. He needed to see Finn, but the fear of what they had done to him nearly cost him his nerve.

The reality turned out to be so much worse than anything he could have imagined.

They stopped in front of a long observation window that opened into one of the larger labs.

Several figures in white coats and surgical masks worked around an exam table.

At first, they obscured all but the long, elegant feet at the end of the table.

Finn’s feet, without a doubt. Then one of them moved away, giving Diego a clear view.

He clapped his hand over his mouth to silence his cry of horror.

Leather straps secured Finn to the table without a sheet for modesty or a blanket for warmth.

A leather…bit, for want of a better word, had been shoved between Finn’s teeth.

Bruises mottled his pale skin, several open gashes bled sluggishly, but the worst of it—dear God—Finn’s right arm ended in a ragged, bleeding stump.

A terrible, anguished sound came from somewhere. Diego only realized he was the source when Morrison’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Mr. Sandoval?”

“I don’t… carajo …” Diego glanced from one face to the next in utter disbelief. Any attempt at logical, persuasive speech died a horrible death at the sight of Finn’s tortured, wasted condition. “You monsters! What the fuck have you done?”

The elder scientist seemed unruffled by this outburst. “The subject exhibits astounding regenerative abilities. These are being thoroughly documented.”

Diego slammed his fist against the glass. “No! Tell them to get away from him! Set him loose and give him to me!”

“Mr. Sandoval, you’re hardly in any position to make demands.” Gerry’s soft voice held a hint of ice.

With a howl of rage, Diego launched himself at the agent. He tangled both fists in the man’s jacket and slammed him up against the wall. “You motherfucker! Watching us for months! Stalking us! Did it get you off to see us together? Did you have a camera in our bedroom?”

Gerry’s expression only changed far enough that the corner of his mouth twitched into a bitter half-smile. “You poor, deluded little man. After everything you’ve seen here, you still have no idea how grave this situation is.”

“It’s only ‘grave’ because you’re killing them! They’re not aliens, you morons! They come from Earth. They’ve always lived here. Longer than humans. Maybe longer than dinosaurs, I don’t know! They belong here!”

The agent’s expression softened. “That’s what they told you?

” His right hand came up to cover Diego’s, as if to comfort him.

“Mr. Sandoval, they’re not human. You are.

I understand that you’ve become attached to them.

That you’ve even taken one as a…lover, God help you.

I’m sorry about that and I’m sorry this hurts, but you need to search your heart now, and realize what’s important beyond your selfish desires.

“This is the first time we’ve had a chance to study these beings.

The aliens at Area 51 were a hoax. A myth.

It never happened. These aliens are real.

And we believe their intentions may not be peaceful.

Their scouts arrived in secret, attempting to infiltrate human society.

A peaceful mission would contact Earth’s governments directly.

They have shown themselves to be aggressive, with deadly weaponry.

Please understand, Mr. Sandoval, the fate of humanity rests here, with us, and we take our responsibility very seriously.

Now you have to decide where your loyalties are.

To your country, your planet, your family, the whole human race or to an alien being who has fed you lies and toyed with your emotions in the most unscrupulous ways? ”

Inside the lab, Finn’s head thrashed from side to side as the white coats prodded at one of his wounds.

Diego tightened his grip, pounding Gerry against the wall with each word, “He’s. Not. An. Alien!”

“Hey, hey, Mr. Sandoval.” Big, gentle hands covered Diego’s, prying his fingers from the wool suit jacket. “You’re upset. We get that. But this isn’t the way to handle it.”

Sergeant Morrison slid an arm around his waist and pulled him away. To his utter shame, he turned into the embrace, hiding his face against that broad chest, letting the sergeant support him back to his chair.

“Finn…” Diego’s anguished whisper barely got past his throat as his nurse turned his chair away from the window. “ Dios… no…my Finn …”

The lights slipped by overhead as Diego slid into numb, helpless despair.