Page 369 of Hunters and Prey

Chapter 8

As soon as Dante’s hand closed around mine a tingle ran up my arm and spread throughout my body. He tugged me toward the bars, hard and sudden. I was going to slam into the bloody metal. My free hand came up to brace myself, to protect me from a body slam, but it never made contact with anything, because I passed straight through the barrier just as Dante had done.

He glanced up at the camera. “Quick, we don’t have much time.”

Running low, hands still linked, we headed for the door Sophia always used. I pulled back on his arm as we drew near because he wasn’t stopping and we were going to— Fuck, he passed right through, and then he was pulling me with him and we were on the other side, in a bland corridor lit by low, anemic amber light. My veins churned with the rush of it all, with the prickle of magic and the thrill of adventure. Damned danger and its thrall.

Dante led the way, taking stairs and slipping through walls as easily as if he’d been doing it forever. As if he’d been wielding magic forever, which he probably had been because he was a Dreki—a fucking dragon parading around in human guise. I was holding hands with a Dreki!

But I needed to hear him say it. “You’re Dreki, aren’t you?”

Boot falls echoed down the corridor toward us. There was someone headed this way, just around the bend. Dante grabbed me and shoved us through the nearest wall. I squeezed his hand, pulling back on reflex, because we could end up anywhere, trapped between the foundations of the building or suspended in oil. Goodness knew what was on the other side. But he was stronger than me, and in the next moment, we were through the wall, not trapped in the foundations. Thank God.

Or maybe not.

Bodies on gurneys lined this lab. But not just any bodies, these were the missing Skins from cell four, plus many more. They were in some kind of stasis, eyes open but unseeing. Monitors beeped as they recorded vitals, but the worst thing—the thing that made bile rise up in my throat—were the silver rods lancing down from the ceiling and burrowing into the Skins’ flesh. Five—no, six rods apiece, so each Skin was pinned to their gurney like an insect on a display board.

What were the Bloods doing to them? Oh, God. Could they feel the rods? Could they feel the pain?

To my left someone moaned. Dante made a grab for my elbow, but I was too quick, dodging and slipping away toward the sound. It was one of the women from cell four. They hadn’t bothered with rods for this one, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t even bothered with pain relief. There were no monitors on her because they were done with her. She was naked and strapped to the gurney. They’d peeled the skin from her arms and upper thighs, and her abdomen had been dissected, exposing her intestines. The anger that had been simmering inside me ever since we’d been taken erupted into fury, stealing my breath and making me lightheaded for a brief moment.

Dante gripped my elbow. “We need to get out of here.”

The woman’s eyes rolled, tinged yellow and bloodshot, and her mouth worked in a silent plea. I exhaled and took a step forward until I was up against the cold metal of the gurney.

“Anya, the Bloods who did this could be back at any moment,” Dante warned.

Yes, they could be back, and then what else would they take from this living corpse? Her pain-filled eyes begged for release, and her silent scream echoed in my mind. Kill me, it said. Please. Kill me.

My hand slipped over her nose and mouth.

“Anya,” Dante whispered.

I pressed down. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Thank God he did, because I was on the edge, ready to snap. The rage, the need to do some damage, to lash out and maim, was a live entity squirming under my skin. Thank God it was there, because I needed it to maintain my grip on the woman as she began to thrash involuntarily, her body taking over her mind as its need for oxygen overwhelmed it.

The sound of voices drifted toward us just as the woman stopped her struggle and grew lax. Dante yanked me away and pulled me behind a set of units lined with files and books just as the voices rose in volume.

“—coming along nicely,” a nasal male voice said.

“It better be. If you lose this batch, then it will be your ass in the arena.” This voice was deep, assured, and very familiar.

“Commander, this is a delicate process. We’re working with the Dreki genome, isolating and experimenting until we find the perfect cocktail to create the perfect soldier. The technicians are also analyzing the blood samples we obtained from the newly reaped Skins to find any unusual markers we may be able to utilize.”

“You’ve had over a year to experiment, Hunley. I suggest you have solid results at the next council meeting. The Wyvern collars have worked exceptionally well, and the breeding has been successful, which is the only reason our exalted leader hasn’t claimed your head. But he grows impatient.”

“The first Wyvern younglings are hatching as we speak—a new generation that we can train to do our bidding,” Hunley reminded the commander. “No need for collars.” There was a smug smile to his voice.

“Yes, but we need soldiers now. These Skins will be our super soldiers. They need to be ready yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

A sigh. “What’s the report on the humans from sector eight?”

“Once we perfect this genome treatment on the Skins, we will begin treatment on the human population of sector eight. And once we do that, we will have the army we need to defeat the Dreki once and for all.”

There was silence for a moment and then ...

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