Page 29 of Fanged Embrace
I looped my thumbs under the straps of my backpack, shaking my head to clear the fog that crept in and blurred my thoughts. But the memory flared anyway. Cold metal tables, bright fluorescent lights slicing through the gloom, screams echoing in the distance. My heart lurched, and a haze of old fear rose like smoke.
I was back where I started—two years younger and terrified.
I pressed myself against the metal shelving, breath hitching.Not now. Please, not now.Another memory: alarms blaring, scorching chemicals burning my throat. A wave of heat, a corridor filled with smoke. Arlon’s voice emanating from somewhere beyond the flames.Stop—stop, you’re not there anymore.
It was like I was talking to myself from a distance, reaching through time to snatch myself back from the past.
I squeezed my eyes shut. My nails dug into my palms. The sound of my own ragged, wheezing breathing eventually brought me back.You’re free, you’re fighting back, you’re…I lifted my head, forcing the panic down into a tight knot in my chest.Breathe.
I exhaled slowly, unclenching my fists with gargantuan effort.
When I’d finally grabbed hold of myself, I edged toward the door on the far end of the room, poking my head out with my heart in my throat. The hallway beyond was silent, empty. The walls lined with boxes and crates. I dodged a metal trolley—packed with discarded medical equipment that churned my stomach—and pressed on.
The hallway stretched ahead, sterile fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete floor. I pressed myself tight against the wall, wary of the security cameras mounted high on the corners.
Move. Pause. Check. Breathe. Repeat. I could be stealthy when I wanted to—when climbing wasn’t involved.
I slithered down the corridor, keeping an eye on the cameras, sliding from one blind spot to another, my back scraping against cool cinderblock. Every step felt dangerously loud in the deafening silence.
My muscles were knotted tight, adrenaline pumping furiously through my veins. Every inch of this facility was rife with sickening familiarity, and it took every ounce of strength not to crumble to the memories that clawed at my mind.
At last, I reached what looked like a control room and the heavy steel door was slightly ajar. The universe seemed to finally relent and grant me a speck of good fortune when I peeked inside and found it empty. I slipped in quickly, gently easing the door shut behind me.
The room was dim, illuminated by the hazy glow of dozens of monitors lining the walls. I crept closer, inspecting the footage—and then wished with every fiber of my being that I hadn’t.
“What the–” My heart seized as my eyes darted between screens, horror creeping like cold fingers up my spine.
Each screen revealed a cell, each cell a nightmare—some holding terrified, weeping humans, others imprisoning twisted creatures with hollowed eyes that burned with a monstrous hunger. I stumbled back a step, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a gasp I couldn’t contain.
I recognized that agony, the same torment I'd barely escaped myself.
I gripped the back of a steel chair and forced myself tolook, steadying my legs as a wave of nausea threatened to buckle my knees. A few screens showed individuals writhing in pain, their bodies twitching and contorting in the early stages of vampiric transformation.
My stomach lurched violently, sickness and rage battling for dominance. This wasn't just imprisonment—it was systematic torture, a laboratory of suffering.
One particular monitor caught my eye and my breath snagged in my throat. The blond guy I'd seen earlier sat motionless on a cot, eyes vacant and glassy. My breath fogged up the screen slightly as I leaned closer, and I hurriedly rubbed at the glass. He was just… sitting there.
Then footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, jolting me from my horror.
Fresh panic spiked in my chest, and I ducked behind a tall equipment rack, squeezing into the narrow gap between the cool metal and the wall. The door swung open seconds later and the room was filled with the acrid scent of cheap cologne.
The security guard—according to his labeled jacket—muttered something under his breath, completely unaware of my presence as he settled into the chair in front of the desk. He looked… human. There was nothing unnatural about the cracks in his features, the graying streaks in his hair.
Holding my breath, I angled myself gingerly, peering through gaps in the shelves to keep the screens in view. The guard scanned the monitors methodically, head tilting in increments as he looked from cell to cell—but he stopped abruptly at the blond boy's feed.
On the screen, the blond was moving, rising with deliberate slowness from his cot.
He turned purposefully toward the camera, and for one electrifying moment, his eyes locked onto it—piercing, defiant, like he could see straight through the lens.
“What the hell...?” the guard hissed, and I rose to my toes to get a better view past his head.
To my immense surprise, the blond on screen raised his hand, middle finger extended with fierce rebellion, before flinging his jacket over the camera and plunging the screen into abrupt darkness.
The guard cursed with vehemence, chair scraping violently across the floor as he sprang upright. I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath as the guy dashed from the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
Silence returned and I waited—until I was sure he wasn’t coming back—then I edged slowly out from behind the equipment rack, heart still slamming an aggressive tempo against my ribs. I stared blankly at the now-blocked screen, utterly baffled.
Well. That was… unexpected.
