Chapter Twenty-Five

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Komazzi stared through the glass window into the room where Cat lay; to the outside observer, she merely looked asleep. Bright red blood pooled beneath her bed, a stark contrast to the white tile floor.

Bane had insisted on bloodletting to treat Cat, claiming they needed to remove the toxins. Blood had stopped draining from her wrists hours ago, but Bane demanded that no one touch her until he returned from wherever he had run off to. Komazzi couldn't help but stay by her side, to try to quell the guilt of his last words to her being in anger. He didn't understand how Bane could leave the one he loved alone while she bled dry.

The door to the observation room burst open, and Bane stormed in, dragging a struggling Galen Echevarria by the ear. Bane shoved the smaller man against the medical cabinets on the far side of the room. Galen scrambled to his feet, flinching as Bane stepped toward him.

"Get washed up and get the transfusion equipment ready, now!" Bane shouted, taking his silk button-down shirt off and tying a rubber band around his arm as he entered Cat's room.

"Yes, sir." Galen hastily scrubbed his hands and put on rubber gloves before he ran into the room. He slipped on the wet floor, and Bane grabbed his neck to prevent him from falling.

"If you don't get this transfusion started in the next fifteen seconds, you're going to be the one on the table bleeding out," Bane said, his fingernails digging into Galen's skin. "Am I clear?"

"I-I don't understand why you didn't have someone else do this. It's not my area of expertise," Galen stammered, pulling the tubes and needles out of the cabinet.

Bane growled dangerously and grabbed the equipment from Galen. He connected the tubes to a machine in the middle of the room and pressed a few buttons. He then carefully inserted one needle into Cat's wrist, and the other into his own vein. The machine whirled loudly, and Bane's blood quickly ran through the tubes.

"I need you to turn this off as soon as Cat's awake. If I pass out before that happens, leave me be," Bane commanded, gritting his teeth as the machine continued to run. His tattooed arm flinched in obvious pain.

"It's not designed to run safely at those settings. We need to turn it down, or you could die," Galen insisted. He reached to change the dial on the machine, but an invisible force tossed him back against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs.

"What did I say? Don't fucking touch it until she's awake. You are only here to turn it off," Bane snarled, grabbing Cat's hand and squeezing it tightly. She was limp, cold, and lifeless. He could faintly feel a slow pulse. He laced his fingers through hers and mumbled under his breath. A spark shot through his body and into Cat's. She started seizing. Bane's chest tightened as he felt the blood being sucked out of his veins.

Galen leaped forward as Bane fell unconscious, but an unknown force held him at bay.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cat shot upright and let out a loud screech that shattered the glass in the room. Her head turned toward Galen, who slowly backed up, searching blindly for the door. He didn't dare take his eyes off the psychotic looking being in front of him. Her lips curled into a sadistic grin, revealing dagger-sharp teeth. Her pitch-black eyes seemed to absorb all light around them. The blonde's head turned at an unnatural angle as she stared deep into the doctor's soul.

Running his fingers along the wall, Galen finally felt the door handle behind him. He attempted to turn it and came to the bone-chilling realization that it was locked from the outside. Cat rose from the bed; her veins looked like tattoos against her pale skin. Galen didn't have a chance to react before the thin blonde launched herself at him with unholy speed. She tore into his neck, lapping at the blood like a feline drinking milk.

"Cat, that's enough!" a voice yelled from behind her. She froze, then turned to face Bane, who had sat up on the cot. She snapped her teeth at him, blood dripping down her face. She charged at him, but he stopped her, pinning her arms above her head. She growled angrily, struggling to escape, but Bane pushed her against the wall and kissed her passionately. Cat relaxed at his touch, kissing him back.

Komazzi could hardly process what happened. The door to the quarantine room opened with a loud pop. He watched as the scene before him grew more and more intimate. Cat's gown dropped to the ground before Bane briefly pulled away.

"Get this dipshit to the ER. Pamela is expecting him. Unless you enjoy watching, vampire." Bane shot a meaningful glare in the redhead's direction.

Komazzi pulled the smaller man out of the room and carried him off to the hospital wing. The events of the past hour repeated over and over in his mind as he rushed down the hallway.

He had always known Cat and Bane were powerful, but Cat had resurrected, for all intents and purposes. She didn't look or act like herself at all. It was as though a mindless, bloodthirsty demon had possessed her. The real question Komazzi couldn't shake was, how did Bane know the transfusion would work, and how to stop her? Had she died before?

* * *

Matt's eyes fluttered open. Light streamed into the room from the doorway, casting shadowy patterns on the wall. He had lost all sense of time here in the basement and didn't know how long he had been asleep. His head felt like a dead weight on the pillow. He tried to swallow, and his throat burned. Tubes protruded from his arm and nose.

Blip, blip, blip...

The steady beep of the heart monitor reminded him he was still alive. He tried to roll over, and pain melted through his stomach as if his insides were on fire.

His mind went numb with every jolt of pain that attacked his body, and Matt realized the horrifying truth. They had cut him open and poked around, touching his vital organs, studying them like a ghoulish science experiment. He wondered if they had removed anything. He stared at the empty chair beside his bed. Not once in the last eleven years had he been alone during a hospitalization. Komazzi always stayed with him.

Thinking of Komazzi, Matt's vision blurred, and the tears finally came. What had Bane told Komazzi and Rory about the mission? Had Bane known the organization would do this? Where was James? Questions swirled in Matt's head, but he couldn't keep his eyes open...

Matt hovered in a dreamlike state, falling in and out of consciousness. He was slowly losing touch with the world he once knew, the lucid moments becoming harder to grasp onto.

It was hot, so very hot. Dr. Foster bent over him. He felt the cold stethoscope slide down the neck of his gown and press against his chest. He wanted to squirm away from her hands, but he couldn't move. His temperature had risen to dangerous heights, leaving him open and vulnerable to their cruel intentions.

"He's burning up, you must have nicked something." Dr. Foster's voice reached him through the fog. "Start him on antibiotics for the infection...we may have to operate again."

Matt winced as needles pricked the backs of his hands. "No," he moaned, but they didn't seem to hear him. He closed his eyes against the glare of the lights. The pain threatened to drag him under. He tried to fight it, but he had no strength. Was he going to die? Rory knew how much he loved her...right?

"His vitals are weak. Michael will kill us if this one dies," a male voice said before Matt fell into the waiting arms of darkness.

* * *

Matt woke up to screams echoing off the empty hospital walls. He groaned and shifted himself into a more comfortable position. The pain in his stomach had lessened, and his fever was gone. They had unhooked him from most of the tubes and wires. He hoped that meant they had finished with their experiments. He just wanted to sleep...

Suddenly, he recognized James' frantic voice. "Let me out! I need to get to her! Let me go to her! Please, it won't stop until I find her!"

The door to the infirmary hit the wall, and a gurney rolled in. "James, calm down. It's all in your head. You need to fight the call of evil," said a familiar voice.

It couldn't be, Matt thought to himself as he turned his head to see the bitch who abandoned him all those years ago fussing over his redheaded accomplice. Matt wondered what they had done to him.

James began to convulse, his face twisting in pain. Beverly gently brushed James' hair out of his face and stroked his arm. A brief pang of jealousy darted through Matt's stomach as he watched his mother caring for the man screaming on the bed. What made him so fucking special?

The unmistakable sound of vomiting filled the room. "I'm begging you, please let me leave." James sobbed, shaking violently.

"We're giving you a temporary sedative, it will pass." Beverly took a syringe from Dr. Foster and plunged it into James' neck. Within minutes, his body went limp, and his eyes slid closed.

"What's wrong with James?" Matt struggled to sit up. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he collapsed back against his pillows. It had been nearly a day since he'd last eaten. He needed something to raise his blood sugar level, or he wouldn't be able to help James complete their mission.

As though just noticing him, Beverly locked eyes with Matt. Her expression curled with disgust. "Natalie, clean this mess up and get Matthew something to drink."

"Right away, Bev." Dr. Foster snapped her fingers at a couple of nurses, who got to work scrubbing the floor with bleach. The doctor briefly left the room and reappeared with a glass of what looked like thick cranberry juice. "It's for your kidneys. Drink up."

"Fuck you, I'm not drinking that," Matt said. They had probably spiked it with more drugs. "What did you do to James?"

"Nothing, he had a panic attack," Dr. Foster insisted. She held out the glass of juice. "Drink this; I need to make sure your kidneys are functioning properly after the surgery. If you develop a kidney infection, it might hinder your recovery."

Matt took the glass from Dr. Foster and sniffed it, detecting the aroma of cranberries. The last thing he needed was to get sick again. If that happened, he would be forced to endure more painful tests and surgeries. He quickly swallowed the juice. It left a strange, metallic taste in his mouth. He felt sparks explode in his chest. Strangely, it didn't feel bad, just different. The feeling disappeared almost as soon as it started. Matt couldn't explain it, but he felt a little stronger. His face must have given him away because the doctor's eyes lit up.

"You felt something, didn't you?" Dr. Foster grinned like a crazy person. Matt unconsciously pulled away from her when she reached toward him with the stethoscope. Her eyes widened as the machine beside his bed filled with symbols Matt didn't recognize. "This is incredible! We need you to drink more."

"Drink more what? What did you give me, you nutjob?" Matt's heart sped up as adrenaline coursed through his body. The doctor ran to the back and returned with a bag of what looked like blood. Matt moved to escape, but three men grabbed him and pinned him down. A nurse pried his mouth open, and Dr. Foster poured the liquid in. Matt tried not to swallow the coppery concoction, but they plugged his nose and he had no choice.

After the third mouthful, his entire body tingled with electricity. It surged deep inside his bones, crackling along his arms and legs, and everyone around him vanished. He looked around and realized he was no longer in the hospital room. His heartbeat pounded through his head. He stood in a dark hallway; only a red light illuminated the path as an alarm blared through the facility. His body felt completely healed, with only slight aches and pains.

"Get out there and find him, you idiots!" Beverly's voice rose above the alarm, and Matt heard footsteps beating on the tile floor. He ducked into the nearest room and shut the door. He flipped on a light. The room appeared to be an office, with a polished, cherry wood desk, bookshelves, and a tall storage cabinet. A laptop, Manila folders, and several thumb drives littered the desk.

Matt walked over to the storage cabinet and opened the door. His clothes lay neatly folded on the bottom shelf. He stripped off the gown, momentarily shocked at the fiery red incision that went from the bottom of his sternum to below his belly button. Yet another scar to add to his growing collection. He hurriedly got dressed and laced up his boots; his hand slid into the inner pocket of his jacket and found his cellphone and the mint container.

As he was about to leave the room, a framed photograph on the desk caught his eye. Dr. Foster posing at the lake with Ben and all fourteen of their children. They had taken it the year Legolas graduated high school. How long had Dr. Foster been a member of the organization? He didn't understand how Ben never knew—the woman was his wife; they lived together.

So many people had betrayed them. Matt felt renewed anger bubble to the surface as he thought about his own mother and the cold, unforgiving way she had looked at him. He saw nothing but hate in her eyes. And what about his father? No, not his father. Beverly and Raymond Koil hadn't been his parents since the day they threw him out on the street. Komazzi was the only father he had known for eleven years.

Matt clenched his fists. He wanted to break something, anything. He grabbed the laptop off the desk and flung it across the room. Glass shattered as he hurled the photograph at the wall. He shoved the thumb drives into his pocket, then listened at the door. Silence. Even the alarm had died down.

Matt stepped out of Dr. Foster's office and glanced down the corridor. The lights flickered, and he saw a figure standing in the middle of the hallway, barefoot and dressed only in a pink nightgown. The person turned to face him, and he gasped out loud. Drusilla!

He reached out in the dim light, but immediately upon touching her, his hand slipped effortlessly through her body. Matt's heart sank when he noticed the slight transparency of her skin. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized that the girl standing before him was not Drusilla in the flesh, but an apparition. That could only mean she was dead, her spirit left to wander alone here in the terrifying place where she had died.

The specter put a finger to her lips, motioning for him to be silent. She beckoned to him, her mournful eyes filled with pain. Help me, she pleaded.

A chill ran down Matt's spine, but his desire to learn the truth overshadowed his fear and compelled him to follow her. They turned a corner and a narrow hallway stretched out before them. The figure stopped outside a metal door. Bold, black letters announced their destination: Morgue. Matt's shaking hands pushed the door open.

The ghost pointed to a wall of steel drawers at the back of the room. Matt walked toward them on quivering legs. He peered at each drawer until he found one with a name: Karr, Drusilla.

Matt grasped the handle of the drawer and pulled it open.

A black plastic body bag lay on the slab. He unzipped the bag partway, revealing the young girl who had been missing for the last month. Her body was stiff and cold. Shoulder-length blonde hair framed her pale face. Her lifeless blue eyes had sunk deep into their sockets. Her lips were dry and cracked, stained with clotted blood. Wounds and bruises covered her arms and torso.

Matt's eyes welled up as he stared at Drusilla Karr, an innocent victim of the organization's evil. He snapped pictures of the body with his cellphone and texted them to Komazzi. A door slammed in the hall. Matt fled the room and ran straight into Macnair.

"They want me to bring you back to the lab, so don't give me any trouble," Macnair said. The red light bathed his face in an eerie glow, and his eyes flashed. He backed Matt against the wall and leaned in close. "Beverly told us not to underestimate you. What's your secret, kid? How did you disappear like that?"

"Um..." Matt wracked his brain for an excuse. He withdrew the mints from his jacket. "I...I ate one of these," he insisted, handing the container over.

Macnair lifted the lid and regarded the mints with suspicion. "They're always messing with weird shit around here," he said. "But teleportation? I could really use that superpower." He popped a few mints into his mouth.

Without warning, Macnair's body erupted in flames. His blackened corpse fell to the ground and turned to ash. Matt's eyes widened; he couldn't believe Bane had intended for him to take those mints if he got caught. This wasn't just cyanide...it was total destruction.

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