Chapter 367
It was a blue mist; a dark, electric blue that pulsed with thought. Katelina touched the edges of it and felt tingles reverberate through her.
"Perhaps it's best."
The words echoed in her mind, but they left no peace behind as they had in other dreams.
"Better to follow?"
This was a dream too, after all.
"Perhaps."
Wasn't it?
The dream faded and she blinked against a blurry world. Her body was numb, and her eyes didn't want to focus. Gray walls became clear and then fuzzy. She was aware of motion; being carried?
Voices slogged through her ears, "She's waking."
"She's had too much blood. It's made her resistant. They'll need something stronger."
Stronger than what?
The motion ceased. A shiny wall was before her. Lights glowed in a box at the side, their halos bright like a Christmas tree through a frosty window. The wall slid open. No, not a wall, a door. Inside it was too bright, and she squinted. A blurry figure waited, then exchanged a few foreign words. A gurney gleamed silver and they dropped her on it. She tried to move, but her limbs were too heavy. Blackness pressed at the corner of her eyes and won.
The screams brought her back. There was motion again, but she was lying down. Her head lolled to the side with effort and she saw the bars, like metal cages. Figures hunched inside; naked skin, jutting bones, furious eyes.
The bars disappeared. The screams grew louder. A new room, a new place. Someone was strapped to a silver table. Figures in white ringed it like phantoms. Something was wrong with the figure's head. Something- Katelina concentrated, fought against the sucking emptiness, and for a moment her vision cleared. The scalp was peeled back, bone removed, and the naked bloody brain looked ready to fall out onto the floor. Slender silver sticks stabbed out in various directions like a macabre pincushion. One of the phantoms in white pulled on the pins, pressing, pushing, adjusting, and the figure flopped soundlessly.
Katelina wanted to panic, but she couldn't. Like her body, her feelings were numb, and the images made no sense. The scream came again, but not from their victim. In the next room she saw its source: a chained woman who writhed on the tiled floor. Someone else in white stood by, watching, making notes.
Dungeon, her mind whispered. Dark age experiments.
Jorick.
Where was Jorick?
The motion stopped. Another room. Too many lights. The tile floor was brown, like blood left too long, and the walls were white with silver shelves. There was a bed. Long flapping straps hung down like evil red tongues, waiting to wrap around her. Would they peel off her skin, too?
The edges blurred, and she noticed someone in white at her side. They held a syringe and she watched the needle disappear into her arm. Something stronger.
The screams pulsed in her ears, joined by a second voice; two of them screaming together in concert. No. She didn't want to be there. She needed to get away. To run. But where was there to go?
Where is Jorick?
Footsteps on tile. The blackness wavered at the edges of her vision and called her back. She struggled as a new voice echoed disjointed words from the foot of the gurney, "master refuses to cooperate- trouble- release-"
The white phantom answered, "Why can't they handle it like usual?"
"I don't know- orders-"
An irritated sigh. A distorted face peered into hers with dark angry eyes. "They're missing an amazing opportunity."
And then the blackness was back.
***
Katelina woke with a jolt, a scream trapped in her throat, but the alertness melted into grogginess. She blinked against her smeary vision and slowly an unfamiliar room came into focus. White walls and a metal grate on the ceiling. She rolled her head to the side to see what looked like medical equipment; a monitor, cables, an empty IV pole. With a groan she rolled her head the other direction to see three empty beds and a closed door.
A memory slithered through her consciousness: a phantom in white with a clipboard. A bleeding brain. It was a horror movie, and she was trapped in it.
She couldn't find her terror, only sloppy wisps of urgency that melted into nothing. Why was she in a horror movie? What had she done? She wiped at her face and tried to remember. They were- they were at the beach. No. They'd gone to the stronghold in Munich. And then?
And then the images slotted into place. Der H?here Rat, the lockdown, Micah, the guards, and finally her desperate, mad dash. The cages and the torture chamber.
Jorick. Where is Jorick?
As if in answer, she was aware of an angry voice shouting beyond the room. She focused until she could understand the words.
"see her now! This is ridiculous! I am her master, I own her!"
There he was, but they wouldn't let him in. No visitors allowed in the dungeon. Though she wondered why he didn't use his power of persuasion. Had he found someone who was resistant to it? That had to be annoying.
Someone else spoke, their voice lower. "I've already told you, you're forbidden for the time being. I ask you once more to stop or I will call the office and have you escorted from here."
"Make all the calls you want, I've had enough!" The door jerked open and Jorick stood in the doorway, one foot ready to step inside, like a freeze frame. His face was alive with rage and his hand was wadded into an indignant fist. Behind him stood Wolfe, his expression smooth and cool.
She could see beyond them, to a room with the wrong colored tile. Not bloody brown but white.
"I've warned you, Jorick," Wolfe said. "Don't make the situation worse."
Jorick didn't answer, only strode inside. Katelina struggled to sit up as he stopped next to her bed and caught her hand. "Are you all right?" His voice was gentle, but his eyes flashed anger.
"No," she wanted to scream, but her dry mouth wouldn't work right. "Dungeon," she croaked.
"It's all right, little one," Jorick soothed. "Or it will be soon." He glared over his shoulder at Wolfe, who'd followed him in.
Something moved through the Scharfrichter's eyes; pity or perhaps understanding. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and he said coldly, "You have three minutes and then I will request back up."
He slammed the door and Jorick turned back to Katelina. His dark eyes traced her face and ran over her body, as if checking to make sure everything was where it should be. He took a deep breath, struggling for words. "What happened? What did he do?"
"The dungeon. Jorick, we have to get out of here. I saw what they're doing. I saw his brain."
"What? Whose brain? What did Micah do?"
"Not Micah. The guards. They brought me here, to the dungeon. I tried to escape. I tried."
Jorick stroked her cheek soothingly. "You're not in the dungeon, little one, you're in the infirmary. They said there was a disturbance. That Micah had been arrested and you were here."
"I saw it!" she cried with as much force as she could muster. "I saw what they're doing!"
Jorick's eyebrows shot up in alarm, and she felt him peering into her mind, sifting through memories for the truth. It was over in an instant, and he was left with an expression torn between pity and anger. "That was a dream, Katelina. I swear to you, this is the infirmary." He took a deep breath. "They weren't taking you to the dungeon, only relocating us. What were you and Micah thinking? You should've shut the door and refused to speak to them until I arrived."
"We tried to shut the door. They forced their way in."
He searched her mind again and then nodded. "Yes. I see. But right or wrong, Micah will have to stand trial before the Lesser Council - or whatever they call them." He glanced to the door, as if he could hear Wolfe thinking beyond it. Katelina realized he probably could. "And they plan to arrest you."
