Page 34 of Captive
I wasn’t sure who I’d been with in my past life, if at all, but my body’s response was instinctive, not logical. The way they made me shiver, the way it felt safe to fall into their arms, the way their mingled scents comforted me like the drugs I’d been given in the hospital couldn’t…
Absently, I reached back until my hand brushed against Alistair’s forearm. His skin was just slightly cool to the touch, and while he stiffened up in surprise, he didn’t move as I pulled his arm over my side. He and Dean were so different in so many ways, not the least of all the fact that Alistair was hesitant to take what he wanted the way the werewolf did so brazenly.
He moved closer, his firm body resting against my back. “I don’t want you to be cold,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over my shoulders.
I felt a pang of sadness knowing that was why he’d kept his distance. He was surprisingly thoughtful sometimes. It made me all the more curious about what was going on underneath his melancholy silence.
“It’s fine. It’s nice,” I admitted. He seemed to relax, his arm slipping all the way around my waist.
Dean's eyes opened, flashing a possessive green, even though his only response was to pull his big arms tighter around me, despite the fact that it meant touching Alistair, which he acted like would kill him.
Thiswasnice. Better than nice, really, but if I admitted that, it felt like I’d be opening myself up to the possibility of it all being taken away from me. That the only semblance of security and stability I had in my life really was too good to be true, and the moment I let my guard down, it would be yanked away as some karmic retribution for my crimes worse than any punishment the Academy could inflict.
Chapter 16
Quinn
I wasgrateful I didn’t need to sleep as I pored over book after book on supernatural creatures. I already knew what a husk was, of course, but I didn’t know everything about them, and I was determined to change that.
I knew they were glorified puppets, dead bodies controlled by psychics and witches. I knew dark magic was used to create them. I didn’t know how to destroy them, though, and I couldn’t find that information in any of my books. It seemed they could “survive” nearly everything, including decapitation, in which case their body would keep doing what it was doing even without the head attached. If the person controlling them stopped, however, they would turn to ash.
Which was precisely what had happened with the one Dean had attacked.
There were some similarities between ghouls and husks that made me decidedly uncomfortable. For one thing, we were both undead. For another, we both craved meat, though I could personally be satiated with a very rare beef steak while a husk needed human flesh--the fresher, the better. We were both capable of putting ourselves back together, too, and could sustain massive amounts of damage.
I always told myself ghouls were closer to vampires than husks, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. I caught myself wondering if Bells would see us as the same thing. If she would even want to have sessions with me after that.
I put aside the heavy tome I’d been reading and sighed. Dean was lucky the stand-in doctor had been an infiltrator and not an actual member of the faculty. If that had been the case, he’d likely be in the back of a truck, being shipped off to prison. As it stood, I had no idea how the husk had been powerful enough to get inside Bells’ head. Maybe Andrianakis had been a psychic in life. That combined with the abilities of whoever was controlling him must’ve been enough.
The puppeteer in question had to be ridiculously powerful. That much I knew. Andrianakis’ psychic prowess would make sense if the puppeteer was Bram. He was one dangerous witch.
Bells’ words echoed in my head. Her worst memory had centered around being nearly sacrificed by a group in red robes. That was what the Origin Cult wore. I was fairly certain that Bram had meant to murder her to further his own means. I was also certain that he’d sent Andrianakis to undo her mentally, perhaps so she would snap and end up being shipped off Academy grounds, where he’d be able to intercept her journey and take her back.
Fortunately, Bells had proven herself to be pretty resilient. Not everyone could break out of a memory trance like that.
I did find it interesting that Andrianakis had written on my clipboard during his session with Bells, but it seemed he was only doing that to give the impression he was a real doctor. His words didn’t make sense. For one thing, his handwriting was terrible, not that it was a surprise considering he was a reanimated corpse. For another, what I could make out was literally gibberish.
There were questions about Bells’ worst memory that I desperately wanted--needed--to ask her, but the timing wasn’t right. She needed to recover first. Anyway, she hadn’t even been to my office since her encounter with Andrianakis. It was probably triggering, considering she had to have PTSD after being nearly sacrificed, whether her memories were intact or not. The damage to her mind had still occurred.
I felt strangely protective of her. She was sarcastic, sure, but she was a kind girl with a big heart and an aura that radiated goodness. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to any of my patients, but after just a few sessions, she’d become one of my favorites. I looked forward to seeing her and was admittedly disappointed that she’d been avoiding me.
It probablywasbecause husks and ghouls were so similar, even though we were different in the ways that really mattered. I had free will, for one thing.
I picked up my tablet to check my email, wondering if the school had granted my request to have the clearance on Bells’ file lifted. I hoped they would understand, considering the extenuating circumstances. Even if I didn’t tell Bells what I found, I needed to know as her therapist so I could better help her. Knowing what she was, for instance, would mean our sessions could be targeted instead of vague.
My slow, steady heart beat a little faster when I saw the headmaster had replied to me. I tapped the screen to open the email, mentally crossing my fingers, only to immediately pick out the word “denied” from the message. My pounding heart sank.
Dr. Price,
At this time, we cannot fulfill your request to lift the clearance on your student’s file. Please understand that this is for her safety as well as the safety of everyone else at the Academy. We granted your request to leave her mind intact instead of proceeding with a wipe, but that is the most we can do.
Best Regards,
Headmaster Gene
I closed the email before I could reply to it in anger and dropped my tablet back into its drawer. Before long, I found myself pacing my office in a rare state of anger, telling myself to calm down, but not even the breathing exercises I walked my patients through helped me this time.
I had to confront him. In person. Man to man.
