“I ... my wife says that I am too sensitive about things, but I always thought of it as just being caring.”
Keeley nodded, still straining to hear any sounds of the approaching Tennyson. Dread formed in his belly, dread and self-loathing and a bone-deep sense of sorrow that he knew would take weeks before it faded.
Please, he begged again. Please don’t let them do this. Not again. Think of those who have been lost. And those who can yet be saved. Let me die now in order that they might live.
“I’m not absolutely certain that I understand exactly what you do,” Taylor admitted, gesturing toward Keeley. “The lieutenant said that you chew people up and spit out the remains. But that can’t be right, because I’ve seen the enthralled, and they don’t have bits missing from them. So ... what is it you do?”
“I don’t do anything willingly. Your friends—Tennyson and the group of mad scientists behind him—starve me until I’m barely alive; then they throw an innocent person in here, pump me full of a drug cocktail that drives me into a bloodlust, which in turn forces me to attack the victim, and then drag away the remains to be part of their mindless, soulless army.” In a moment of insight, Keeley knew that it was useless to continue. There was no way this man would help him escape. He was trapped there, alone, at the mercy of men who didn’t understand the concept of the word, and would be used to create an army of mindless drones until they used up all of his life force, bringing on the inevitable end.
“Mad scient—”
The words stopped as there came a knock at the door, warning that it was about to be opened. The guards had taken to doing so since the time Keeley had slipped his chains and had almost escaped before he was Tasered to insensibility.
Despair and regret and guilt gripped Keeley. He wanted to howl that he was not a monster, that it was others who controlled him, controlled the outcome. ... His throat ached as he swallowed back the guilt, and said hurriedly, “They think I enjoy this. They don’t understand that with every enthrallment, they risk releasing an unstoppable fate. They refuse to believe that each person they force me to enthrall drives me closer to madness, and with that madness comes destruction.”
“Of who?” Taylor asked, his voice a whisper.
Keeley closed his eyes against the knowledge that he was close, so close to the edge of control. “Everyone,” he answered.
The door opened. Keeley watched with black despair as the slight form of a young man was pushed into the room. The young man stumbled and fell, lying without a sound on the ground, either drugged by the Collective or perhaps overdosed on substances of his own choice. It didn’t matter which—the young man was now doomed to an eternity of hell.
And Keeley was one step closer to being made the monster he’d fought against since he’d been captured.
Tennyson smiled, a large syringe in one of his hands, while the other held a Taser. “You want to fight, don’t you? He always fights, Taylor, even though he knows he can’t beat us. Just don’t get too close while I bring him into submission. He came close to breaking the neck of a guard two months ago. You just let me remind the Beast that he’s here to serve us, and then I’ll let you watch while he turns this junkie into a servant of the Collective.”
Keeley didn’t wait. He leaped forward, kicking out at Tennyson, catching him under the chin and sending the man staggering backward. In vain did he struggle against the chains binding him to the wall, hoping against hope that this time, he’d free himself.
Tennyson snarled profanely, and shot him with the Taser. Keeley swore against the rush of pain, willing his muscles to resist the electrical charge, but it was no use, and he knew it. Even as he dropped to his knees, he struggled for control, managing to say, “One ... day ...”
“That’s right, you make yourself sound as tough as you like, but just you remember that you’re the one crawling on the ground,” Tennyson said, approaching him to kick him viciously in the ribs several times. Keeley felt the bones give way, knowing that at least a few were broken, driving deep into his organs. He did no more than grunt with the agony of the assault, his muscles locked and refusing to heed his brain’s command. “And I’m the one who has the power of life and death. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Anything. I will do anything you ask of me. Please take me now so that I am no longer the instrument of inhuman madmen, Keeley begged one last time, but even as Tennyson jabbed the horrible cocktail of drugs into his neck, he knew that his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
There was no salvation for him. No hope. Nothing but a future of endless nightmares.
And blood.
So much blood.
TWO
OTHERBOOK
Social Media for the Otherworld
To: Ellis
You there?
To: Ellis
Ellis? Your little light is green, which says you’re connected to Face ... er ... Otherbook. Hello?
To: Ellis
Golden, glorious grape juice! There are days when I really dislike modern technology. What am I doing wrong with this Messenger app? Why isn’t it reaching you? Now I have to ask Merrick, and he’s busy with the whole doom doom doom thing.
To: Ellis
Wait, you haven’t fallen overboard and drowned, have you? Ack! Please tell me you’re not dead!
To: Tempest
Lovey! We just got into port (don’t I sound nautical?) and I see that you’ve been trying to message me for the last week. I told you that the interwebs would be spotty while we were at sea, and that I might not get any e-mails or messages you sent, so your grape juice panic is all for naught. We had a wonderful cruise from Dubai to Singapore. Our version of Drag Dracula was beyond fabulous, with everyone on board the ship truly enjoying it. We even got the captain up onstage one night! It’s been such a nice break from the club to do a season with the cruise lines, but alas, all good things have to come to an end, and we’re flying home to Monaco after a brief stop in Australia. What is a doom doom doom thing, and do I want to know what the ever-dishy Merrick is doing to it? Of course I do! Spill all.
To: Ellis
Thank the moon, stars, and zippy, zippy comets that you didn’t fall overboard! I was worried that someone might throw you overboard, since tolerance of Dark Ones in that region of the world is slim to none, or so Merrick says. I think it must be the sunshiny climate, because who in their right mind wouldn’t love a vamp? But that’s neither here nor there. The doom thing is rather sketchy, to be honest. It took me a while to pry the info out of Merrick, because you know how vampires are—über-protection mode when it comes to anything that concerns their loved ones. But eventually I did get out of him ... wait, let me do this properly. I signed up for a life-journaling class so that I can write down all the adventures Merrick and I get into. Running to the laptop so I can type rather than voice-to-text.
To: Ellis, Tempest
Darlings, are we chatting? I forgot that you got me on this vampy social media thing. What’s going on? And hello, Ellis. I’m glad to hear you and your troupe of vamp dancers are doing well.
To: Roxy, Ellis
Auntie! I forgot you were on here, but I’m delighted to hear from you. Let me just switch to my laptop and I’ll catch you up to speed with everything that’s going on. Ellis, you remember my aunt Roxy, don’t you?