“What’s the second test they want to do?”
“Take a skin sample from your bite. It won’t hurt. Guerre will take care of that.”
“I’m okay with that. You think my bite has something to do with Flynn and his Omnis?”
“It might. Or it might just be the jungle at work. We hope to figure that out. The Ratcliffs are the best at what they do.”
“Merc, in Valle de Lágrimas, you called all of this a game.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. You did.”
Ash hesitated. “Well, you didn’t correct me. But it isn’t a game, is it? This is real. You aren’t joking about your mutations and special skills and Omni enemies.”
“I’m not. They are no joke.”
“Why did you let me keep believing it was part of your real-life role playing?”
“Because I’m terrified of losing you. I would rather set you free than be the cause of your death. A role-playing game was a good cover, and it might have meant that I wouldn’t have to mess with your memories, were we to part ways.”
“Are those the only choices?”
Merc looked sad as he stroked a long strand of her hair. “I don’t know. I hope not. Let’s head down to eat.”
Breakfast that morning was a spinach-and-feta quiche, with cut fruit and fresh brioche rolls. Merc made himself a cup of tea but made her a café au lait. He served her a plate with a generous slice of quiche and a whole roll. It looked as good as it smelled, but she had no interest in eating. And while the coffee was sweet, even it didn’t tempt her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. She’d thought she was starving before.
“I do,” Summer answered, smiling as she joined them at the table. “You never eat when you’re overtired or stressed. And you’re both of those things right now.”
“We should have done her tests first, then she might have had a shot at relaxing,” Merc said.
Summer looked at him. “What tests?”
Ash showed her the bug bite on the side of her head. “Merc wants to make sure it’s not some type of mutant injection, like what happened to you, I guess.”
Summer looked at the thin scar on her arm, all that was left from that night. “Were you cut by a ghoul? They didn’t say anything about that.”
“No,” Merc said. “She just has the bug bite. But we know that two of the women in Owen Tremaine’s group were infected from bugs, so we’re taking precautions.”
“Well, good. I hope it’s nothing. I’ll go with you when you get the tests done.”
“Thanks.”
“Afterward, if you like, we can have a visit—just the two of us.”
“Oh, cruel woman, to cut me out like that,” Merc complained.
“Sorry.” Summer chuckled. “Sometimes a girl just needs girl time.”
“I do,” Ash said, “but what I most need is some time alone to process all of this. And I have to get ready for work tomorrow.”
“You’re already heading back?” Summer sounded surprised.
“I’ve got bills to pay, Sum.”
“All right. Kiera and I will check on you during the week.”
“Thanks.”
“And call me if you need anything while you’re getting settled again.”
“I will.”
Ash caught the meaningful look that Summer and Merc exchanged. She wondered if they were having a quick, silent conversation about her. Ash took a bite of the quiche, pretending she hadn’t noticed.
She wished she could pretend all of this away.
“And that, love, is why I tried to avoid you and us,” Merc said.
When they were finished, he took their dishes to the sink. He leaned against the counter, his arms folded in front of him as he faced her.
“It feels like we’re caught in the upswell of a tidal wave, building and building,” Ash said. “I’m afraid of it crashing.”
He nodded. “Me too.”
“I’m really scared, Merc.”
He came over to the table and drew her into his arms. “We don’t have to know all the answers. We couldn’t if we tried. But we can hold on to each other, take things slowly.”
She nodded.
“We’ll get your tests done, then I’ll take you home. Maybe being back in your own digs will help settle you.”
She leaned her forehead against his chest. In a world where werewolves were real, where mind reading was a thing and mental manipulations were commonplace, she wasn’t sure she could ever feel settled again.
Merc led her out of the kitchen, toward the area where the laundry and elevators were. He held the elevator door for her, then hit a down arrow. She knew there was a lower level, but she’d assumed it was mostly for storage. The elevator, however, kept going for longer than it should have taken to go one floor lower. She sent Merc a questioning glance.
“Our labs are in a bunker.”
It was freaky they had a laboratory here, but then, all of this was freaky. She supposed that was what he’d meant when he told her about the Ratcliffs, but that hadn’t sunk in.
“It’s a very advanced genetic and bioengineering setup. The Omnis are hunting the researchers involved in the human modification trials. We’re trying to locate them and bring them here for their own safety to preserve the work that’s been done. We’re hoping to be able to reverse whatever mutations the Omnis let out into the world.”
She was on borrowed time. “I felt better when I thought this was all a game. I was going to stage an intervention to help you get out.”
He laughed. “I love that you would do that for me.”
“I was just pretending to go along with all the crazy stuff you were saying.”
“I know.”
The elevator doors opened to a clinical, white, shiny, clean hallway. Merc reached for her hand, which gave her strength. He seemed so solid and confident, capable of tackling any situation. He led her to a room that looked like a hospital intensive-care unit. It smelled as sterile, too.
Joyce Ratcliff came in, wearing a white lab coat. She smiled as she greeted Ash, looking at ease, as if testing for a mutant infection was a common thing.
She had Ash sit on the examination table, then rolled a stool close and took a seat. “How are you feeling, Ash?”
Ash looked from the doc to Merc and back again. “Scared. Stressed. Tired. Grouchy.”
“And she has no appetite,” Merc added.
“Those are all normal emotions and behaviors, given the circumstances. Don’t be hard on yourself.”
“Does it get easier?” Ash asked.
“Depends on the individual. Merc volunteered for the program, but he wasn’t properly informed about it. So he was basically tricked into being modified. Same with Liege and Bastion. Guerre was informed and chose to go forward. Nathan and I modified ourselves.”
“You changed yourselves? On purpose?”
Joyce nodded. “We were being forced to change other people—against our knowledge in the beginning, and then against our will when we figured it out. We decided to undergo the changes ourselves so that we could help others through it. We felt that if we were doing something with extreme side effects, then we should experience it ourselves so that we would know how to support others with their changes.”