Then, with a final nasty laugh, he left Torri alone in the darkness with Tanya’s blood drying on her mouth and helpless fear filling her to the brim like black water.
Nineteen
“Come on…come on!” Vic stared at his right hand, concentrating, willing it to do its job.
Along with the right half of his brain, his right hand was part of his positronic network. But when the connections in his brain had broken, so had the extra functions of his hand, leaving it no more than an ordinary appendage.
Now that the positronic part of his brain was slowly repairing itself, it ought to work again as more than just a hand. Desperately, he pressed it to the lock on his room’s door, trying to force it to cooperate with him.
He had known something was wrong the moment Torri was torn out of the dream they were sharing. It wasn’t just the fact that she had woken suddenly— he was so attuned to her that he could hear her heart beating a frantic rhythm, even from several halls away. He heard her voice too—though it was difficult over all the noise the female called Tanya was making. It sounded as though Torri was protesting her innocence and begging someone—anyone—to listen to her.
He had gone to the door of his room, only to find it securely locked with a very thick bolt. Vic was extremely strong—even by Kindred standards—he had been designed that way. But he had only half his available strength while his positronic net was down. He threw himself against the door until his shoulder was sore, but the bolt bent only a little. There was no getting out by brute force.
In the meantime, he heard Torri screaming for help, which no one gave. And then her screams gave way to quiet sobs, which was even worse. The sobs tore at Vic’s heart, making him frantic to get to her.
Now, in desperation, he was trying to make his right hand work as it used to. And though he could feel the positronic net in his brain linking itself slowly together, it wasn’t going fast enough.
Far down the hallway, he could hear Torri’s muffled tears of fear and sorrow and his heart swelled with helpless anger. The female he cared for was being hurt and he couldn’t get to her! Could there be anything worse in the entire universe?
Vic didn’t think so—but there seemed to be nothing else he could do…
Twenty
Torri screamed and screamed but no one came. Eventually, she stopped screaming, just as she had stopped yanking against the restraints. There was no point in doing either. The screaming just made her sound crazier—also, the nurses were used to it, due to her many months of night terrors. And the useless yanking and tugging was only tiring her out.
But she couldn’t stop the sobs that rose in her throat—couldn’t help the tears of pure helplessness that overflowed her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. What was she going to do? O’Toole was coming back to rape her—he had as much as promised that—but no one would believe her when she told them!
Torri felt utterly stuck. Between Tanya’s story that Torri had bitten her and O’Toole’s promise that Dr. Burrows was in on the plot to keep her in St. Elizabeth’s, she felt as completely helpless as she ever had in her life. Who would ever believe that she was sane now? How would she ever get out of here? She didn’t know if the head psychiatrist was truly involved with O’ Toole somehow or not, but she did know there was nothing she could do about it if he was.
And there was nothing she could do now but lay here and wait for O’Toole to come back and do whatever he wanted to her.
As though her dark thoughts had called him, the orderly appeared in her doorway once more.
“All alone now, darlin’,” he rasped, closing the door and locking it behind him. “And I finished up that pesky paperwork. Looks like it’s time for our date.”
“Leave me alone!” Torri’s voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. “Don’t touch me!”
“Told you before, I’m gonna do more than touch you…” O’Toole was leering as he leaned over her, pulling down his pink scrub trousers with one hand. “Now you’re gonna get it, bitch. And you’re gonna enjoy every inch of it…”
Twenty-One
Vic had never had these emotions before—had never had to cope with such anger and fear for the wellbeing of another—especially a female. Mainly because he had never cared for a female before.
He feared the stress might overload the organic part of his brain but he couldn’t seem to stop the feelings that rose inside him. If he couldn’t get to Torri, what would he do? He couldn’t stand here and just listen to her being hurt or violated while he did nothing—it would drive him insane! But still his hand wouldn’t work as it should, no matter how he tried to force it.
What would a regular warrior do? One that was fully organic—one that had been born instead of grown in an artificial womb aboard the Mother Ship?
Pray, whispered a little voice in his head. Pray to the Goddess for help.
But would the Goddess, the Mother of All Life, listen to someone like him? The organic part of him had Kindred DNA, but he had not truly been born to Kindred parents like most warriors had.
Vic didn’t know, but he did understand that he was out of possibilities. Bowing his head, he sent up a heartfelt mental prayer.
“Please, Goddess, I don’t know if you’ll listen to someone like me—someone who hasn’t been born into a Kindred family, but the female I care for is in danger. I have the resources to save her, if only my brain would repair itself a little faster. Please, I need the positronic part of me to work as it should—I need to save Torri. Please!”
Vic heard no answer to his desperate prayer but at that moment, something seemed to shift inside his brain. He could almost hear his positronic neural net clicking back into place and he felt his internal systems coming back on-line.
With an exclamation of relief, he pressed his right hand once more to the door and felt a liquid metal appendage extrude from the heel of his hand. It found its way into the keyhole and traced the dimensions of the lock. After a brief moment, he heard a clicking sound and the bolt snapped back.
“Thank you, Goddess,” Vic muttered hoarsely. He was “back in business” as the humans said. Time to go save the female he cared for.
He just prayed he wasn’t too late.
Twenty-Two
As O’Toole climbed onto the bed with her, Torri shut her eyes tight and refused to look at him.
Take yourself away! she told herself frantically. Be someplace else—take yourself away so you don’t have to feel it happen…
It was all she could think of to do. There was no point in screaming—the nurses would just assume she was having another night terror and none of them would come. Anyway, screaming and fighting only seemed to make O’Toole more eager to rape her. He seemed to like it when she shouted and cried and made a racket—Torri refused to give him the satisfaction.
“Hey, darlin’. Hey, you little bitch,” he muttered in her ear, his breath hot and stale as he reached between her legs. “Hey, scream for me, why don’t you? You know I love to hear you screaming.”