Page 97 of Five to Love Him
The fancy administrative wing where Farrow and I had our offices was one such area, and it was where we were going now, Xander and Conrad carrying the vat from which I could hear the sounds of the person inside. Perhaps he was trying to call out for help, even with his mouth duct taped shut.
As our footfalls echoed along the fancy marble of the first floor, the dimmed lights casting strange shadows, I wondered if my hive had tried to call for help as well, if he’d been ignored like we were ignoring his tormentor.
“Leo, if this upsets you, we can still take you home.”
They were close to me, touching, also holding their own hands. Two of them were watching the vat.
I shook my head. “No. I want to be right here with you, hive.”
“Instructor Arick might wish to make you into a case study of mated love, Leopold,” Farrow said.
“Sorry, headprincipal, but that’s not happening. No one is turning what my hive went through into a fucking case study.”
Farrow’s brows rose. “Apologies, fierce lion heart.”
Conrad sniggered. “Headprincipal.”
I blushed. Had I said that out loud?
“You have a lernean’s sense of how to pick the good ones, hive,” Coral said.
The hive’s hold on me tightened slightly. “Leo is like finding gold at the end of a rainbow. We know we are very lucky.”
Xander cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to say earlier, but a little bit of yoga every day might help your stamina, Leo. The run earlier seemed to take a lot out of you. Sorry if I’m being too direct.”
“That’s just because my hive was way too fast. Anyway, where are we going?”
Farrow stopped and indicated a big metal door with a keypad next to it.
“That way. It’s going to be so happy that we brought it a treat!”
“Just get the fucking door open, Farr, this vat is getting heavy.”
Farrow cackled. “Is that so? Consumption isn’t known to bother vampires, but you look spent.”
“Sweetie, you don’t wanna test me tonight,” the big vampire said.
Heading down the stairs, the two of them were surprisingly silent.
At the bottom, concrete dominated, and the lights were movement activated. In the case of St. Auguste, this fairly utilitarian-looking design surprised me. A school for supernaturals should have had something special in its basement, coffins maybe, or prison cells for the unruly.
But I was applying human thinking, and thanks to Instructor Arick, I knew. After a left turn, the lights that followed us switched on to a considerably dimmer setting, and at the end of a short hallway, a room opened into something that was really special and befitting Freak High.
It was a superhero lair from the action movies, the ceiling much taller than elsewhere, and set up all around the space were monitors, humming computers, and at the far end, I could make out rows of servers. Colorful lights blinked, cables crisscrossed all over the floor, oblivious to the danger of anyone falling over them.
Perhaps, on second thought, it had a little more in common with a villain’s lair.
What I didn’t see were chairs of any kind. On the half circle of narrow tables, keyboards were lined up, some of them looking like they needed deep cleaning the way soil had collected on them. I saw a big stash of bottled water and spray bottles with water, and when I stepped forward to make out what I first thought was a pile of clothes, I very nearly screamed.
The pile moved.
“Farrow,” said a female voice over a speaker. It didn’t sound like a real voice but like those soulless ones that made train announcements.
“IT, good evening. I hope we aren’t interrupting anything?”
“There is a service update,” the voice said.
“I’m sure that’s—Conrad, what is that? Is it a good thing?”
