Page 72 of Shadow Warrior
His shoulders sagged. “Then you understand why I had to lie to you. Mr. Black is no longer himself.”
His words took a beat to register. “Wait … Harmon’s alive?”
Henrich’s mouth parted slightly as he realized his faux pas, and then he pressed his lips together to cut off a muttered curse.
“You saw him before I told you he was dead.” His hand curled into a fist on his desk.
“He’s alive?” Oh, God. My heart was going ten to the dozen as hope filled me. “He’s alive.”
“Don’t, Justice. Cut it off. Now.” His tone was sharp as he issued the order.
I took a shuddering breath. “I have to see him. Please.”
“Of course you do.” He stood slowly. “But I’m afraid you’re not going to like what you find.”
* * *
The chamberwhere Harmon had been kept the last time I’d come down here was empty. Henrich led me through the door at the back. What if this was a trap? What if he meant to lock me down here?
I faltered as he unlocked the door. “Brady and the troop know I’m with you. And Carlo and Devon know about Harmon and the dungeons, so don’t try anything funny.”
He sighed. “I understand your reservations, but I plan to speak to the knights about the severity of the threat as soon as the trials are over. You’re simply getting a preview.”
He pushed the door open and stepped through first, leaving me to follow. The room beyond lit up as we entered. Body sensors?
Wait a second. There were actual lightbulbs in this room. They had electricity.
“We have a small generator,” Henrich said in response to my unspoken question. “A security measure for this part of our dungeons.”
A lab was set up to the right. A huge glass box with pipes coming in and out of it was built against the back wall, and to the left was a large metal box with a round window on it. It looked like a mini-submarine parked in the room. Metal piping was attached to the top and traveled up into the ceiling. The seams of the box had massive bolts attached to them.
“He’s in there, isn’t he?”
Henrich nodded. “It’s a safe, comfortable containment unit. The material is impregnable and spelled by weavers to keep any alternate energy from seeping into our world.”
I stepped closer, pulse pounding in my throat until I was peering into the window. The inside was dimly lit. I made out a bed, a desk bolted to the wall, several books, and the hulking figure up against the far wall.
Harmon? I pressed my palm to the glass. “Harmon?”
The shadow shifted, and then two glowing green eyes popped open to fix on me. I made out his face—the strong jaw, the dark hair, long enough now to brush his shoulders. His torso was hunched as he crouched on the ground. He looked … bigger … wider. He looked … Gray.
“What’s wrong with him? What’s happened to him?”
And then the huge body unfurled and stood, and my lungs froze in fear. His head almost grazed the top of the unit, and his body was twice as large as before, but his eyes … those eyes may be green, but it was Harmon looking out at me.
Henrich flipped a switch. “I’ve turned on the intercom. He can hear you now.”
“Harmon. It’s me, Justice. Are you okay?”
Fucking stupid question considering the circumstances, but it was inanely all that came to mind.
He opened his mouth, and a strange rumble like thunder came out. “Justice,” he said. “No leave me like this. You kill me. Please.”
Each word was drawn with difficulty, as if it hurt him to speak, as if it was a physical effort.
Oh, God … “Harmon …” My throat tightened. “What happened?”
It was Henrich who answered me. “Whatever they did to him altered him on a genetic level. We have no idea what kind of creature he is, maybe a new breed—a mishmash of moonkissed and fomorian. But he is no longer one of us. He no longer needs food or water. He doesn’t excrete. Whatever he is, he’s more fomorian than moonkissed now.”
