Page 32 of Saint of the Shadows

“No.” You look to the ground. My sweet little girl’s ashamed from holding back. But the soul of someone else possesses you. You add with more volume than I thought you were ever capable of, “But you need to wait at least a year, especially to pass human clinical trials. People over ambition. That’s what I always say.”

Oh, I get it now. The research is stuck. You need a little force to get it out. So, I reach into my pocket, pull out my mask, put it on, and… you whimper.

I say that I am a part of some people. Powerful people. You don’t want to do anything stupid, do you?

You shake your head. The exaggerated shake of a child who hates being disobedient. Because if you did something stupid, you would have to contend with far scarier people.

You wipe your nose. “Is that why you took my files? My notes?”

I didn’t take your files, which means someone got to them first.

“Is that why you killed Dr. Varian?” you ask.

What are you talking about?

“If this is an attempt to suppress my work, you needn’t bother. I’m not dying for this! I’ll give you all that I have. Just let me leave.”

“Where is it?” I hiss out my question like a popped tire.

“It’s in my lunch bag in the mini fridge.”

John-Boy checks the refrigerator and grabs the pink polka-dotted lunch bag. He opens it and pulls out a vial of serum.

“That’s what I was talking about at the party. I should warn you. It’s very new. It has had no clinical trials. Okay? I’m leaving now.” You tiptoe to the door, even though Yevgeny waits for you there.

I say, “Not so fast. We want to see a trial. On John-Boy here.”

There you go, rubbing your back again. It’s beautiful to see what you do when you’re scared. John-Boy rolls up his sleeve.

11

Unexpected Visitors

Agiant stood near the door. His physical opposite sat at the counter island with his sleeve rolled up. A man in a fully hooded mask that obscured his face hovered near Annie. She raised a syringe, flicking it.

Just as Marisol’s trembling fingers touched the glass, a white rat dropped from the ceiling, landing on the small one’s face. He shrieked as the rat mauled his cheek. Annie shook the syringe and stabbed the masked one in the neck with it, who collapsed. Annie pulled a gun from her waistband on the giant.

Marisol ran to the door and tried to open it, but the lab’s security protocol kept it locked on the outside. Only Annie could let her in. Marisol pounded on the door. Annie turned to face Marisol, and the gun went off, striking the arm of the giant. Annie reeled from the kickback and stared at the gun.

“Annie!” Marisol screamed as she shook the door.

The masked man staggered to his feet and pulled the syringe from his neck, crushing it in his hand. The small man wrestled the rat from his now chewed-up face and wrestled the gun from Annie’s grasp. As they fought for control, a bullet hit the ceiling, sprinkling bits of tile over the melee.

Marisol kicked at the door handle, trying to bust it open. Through the window, she saw the masked man aiming the gun. The giant seemed indifferent to the scene as he wrapped paper towels around his bicep. Chewed-face threw Annie to the ground behind the counter. White-hot fire flashed from the end of a gun. One. Two. Three. Head. Heart. Lungs.

Marisol’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. A silent scream. She pressed her hand against the glass, wishing she had every superpower at once—just like the movies or some fairy tale. She’d shatter the glass with her voice, snap their necks with her mind, and turn back time to save her. And she would shatter the glass and snap their necks all over again. Instead, her shock paralyzed her, and she watched Annie’s lifeless arm stretch past the counter on the ground.

Annie was dead.

The turn of the door handle snapped Marisol’s attention back to the figure behind the door. Light reflected off the saliva dripping from its teeth; the round circular rows pulsedtoward the empty abyss of a maw in the center. Nothing recognizably human. Just teeth and teeth and teeth. The Bloodsucker. Marisol backed away from the door. The men scrambled to the door. She needed to run. Why couldn’t she move? All she could do was watch the monsters bound closer and closer.

“Get her, John-Boy!” the Bloodsucker howled.

The voice rattled her out of paralysis, and she sprinted down the hallway. She pushed her hands against the fire exit, but a force pulled her in the opposite direction. No! She thrashed against the arms, kicking and clawing. She and John-Boy stumbled into the wall and against the elevator buttons, activating it. She elbowed the mauled spot on his face. John-Boy threw her to the ground. When she looked up, she saw the barrel of a gun and focused on the Bloodsucker’s hungry, eyeless face. Marisol raised her hands over her face. “Please.”

Out of the dark, the white rat landed in the middle of Bloodsucker’s mask and gnawed. He wailed. There was a man under the mask, after all. Marisol crawled to her feet and hesitated. How could there be a killer rat to the rescue? It almost resembled the mouse from the day before, but that wasn’t possible.

John-Boy tackled her to the floor and dragged her by her hair. She struggled against his grip to free herself. The Bloodsucker ripped the rat from his face and threw its body against the wall. He fired a shot at it, exploding the small body into bits.

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