Emergence (The Primogenitor Chronicles Book 1) (38 page)

“Sleep?”

“Yes, for a while at least. After you’re in the van.”

He lowered David to the floor of the doorway and helped the newly emerging Valkyrie coordinate his limbs into a crawl.

“Hello, David, my name’s Christoff. Let’s get you back here. There’s a nice bench with your name on it for the drive.”

His brother’s voice faded as he walked away. He’d check the last couple of details off his list, then they could get out of here. And he could get home.

To Jessica.

He needed to see her. Needed the clear headedness he found when with her. Needed the calm.

He wrestled with the claustrophobia that had risen in the rooming house.
I’ve spent the better part of the last two weeks in a cell in the Hub and been fine, and now this?

He rounded the hood of the van and found Scott.

“The team will be in here first thing in the morning, Nick, to pack up his stuff. I’ll go and make sure the room’s secure before we leave.”

“Thanks, that’s all that’s left. I guess we’re on our way then. Thanks, Scott.”

“No problem, Nick.”

He rubbed his snarling stomach and watched Scott cross the street before turning back to the van. He slammed the door and thumped heavily into his seat. His rioting emotions gave him a headache.

“You locked down, Chris?”

“We’re set, Nick.”

“Flynn, we’re ready whenever you are.” He leaned over to rest his head in his hands and pressed at the sharp pain in his eyes.

“The train is now departing from platform five, will all passengers please assume their seats and prepare for departure.”

The van swayed as it pulled away from the curb. Flynn’s flippant attitude pricked his temper. He took a long breath before he acted on his impulses, forcing it still. He’d come this far without alerting the others. He didn’t need a rash desire to beat the Irishman’s head into the steering wheel to destroy their chances. He sat back.
I’m hungry. That’s all it is. Perfectly reasonable explanation for my irritability. As long as I don’t look too close.
Now if only he could come up with a logical reason for sleeping the entire day.

He stared out the window, watching the fog line strobe past, and worried about his worsening condition, determined to remain awake this time.

Nickolas jerked awake when the van lurched around a corner. The seatbelt locked and pinned his chest, cutting into his neck. He fought the restraint before he woke enough to fumble with the latch and fling the webbing away.

How the hell did that thing get on me again?
Fine tremors coursed through his body and he dropped his head between his knees before gasping in a long breath. Once he felt sure he had it contained, he sat back. The dim light from Jules’s equipment fell across the tech’s sympathetic face.

A growl formed in his chest, breaching the thin crust of control. His muscles tensed to spring at Jules, but movement caught his eye from the shadows in the rear of the vehicle and his focus snapped to it. His brother’s intense stare challenged him; he had purposely drawn his aggression away from Jules.

Chris shook his head no.

He bared his teeth in response, and the growl grew louder.

“Not now, Nicky.”

“Don’t strap me in.”

“Not safe. You would’ve rolled around like a loose watermelon. We’re almost home.”

That stopped him. He shot a look out the window just as the vehicle started to slow and the main gate for the Facility appeared out of the darkness.

He snapped his attention back to Chris. “Four more hours?”

The green gaze softened. “Closer to three. No traffic at this hour.”

The van pulled to a stop under the overhang. Jules opened the door and the interior flooded with light. Nick squinted and took a deep breath. Chris tugged the straps from the unconscious fledge. The blood pounding in his head, he moved to help but stopped with a hiss as the pounding turned piercing for a moment.

“Nick?”

He ignored the concern and continued forward, unbuckling the last strap, then got a grip under David’s knees. He slid the dead weight off the bench and waited for Chris to get him under the arms.

Hunched over, he backed up and they maneuvered through the interior of the vehicle. The jostling jarred the fledgling awake, and he started to fight them.

*David, stop. We’re trying to help.*
Nickolas sent. His grip firmed.
*We need to get you out of the van.*

David whimpered but quit struggling. So he kept up a running mental monologue through the pain. Slowly, he backed out of the van.

“Quiet, Nickolas.”

He slipped on the last step out and instinctively slammed his barriers up, cutting off his power. He whipped a look over his shoulder and saw Ian beside a wheelchair, staring at him.

His thoughts a maelstrom, he grabbed at David’s legs as they slid out of his grip, missed, and they hit the pavement. The fledge grunted and Chris’s eyes sought his as his brother grappled with the sudden weight. Backing away from the naked concern, he slowly retreated, aware of both Ian’s and Chris’s gaze following him while they settled David in the chair. The throbbing deepened.

“Flynn,” Ian said. “Why don’t you and Jules get the van checked in and go get something to eat. We’ll get him settled.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Christoff…”

The van revved then pulled away, drowning out Ian’s comments to his brother. He continued to retreat until his foot sank into grass. He had backed himself across the drive and onto the lawn.

Chris’s voice telling him that Ian knew what he’d done circled through his shard-filled thoughts. He looked back at the building. Ian had turned his attention to David, taking him inside without a backward glance, he noticed with relief. The open sky beckoned and he lifted his face, the temptation to fly almost irresistible. Anywhere, it didn’t matter. Somewhere else that didn’t trap him inside shrinking walls. But then he remembered Jessica and his gaze lowered from the clouds.

Christoff stood where Ian had left him, his focus unwavering as he watched him, pity in the depths of his eyes, and Nickolas’s relief fled as fast as it had risen.

“No, Nick. Don’t make me chase you.” The words whispered across the distance, and he held his hand out, pointing toward the door, waiting.

A shiver rippled down his wings. Only the thought of Jessica kept him grounded.

“Come on, Nick.”

A step. Then two. He forced his feet in the direction of the building. Chris fell in behind as he passed. His steps slowed even further the closer he got, until the doors slid open and he stumbled to a stop on the threshold; the tunnel of hall froze the breath in his lungs.

His skin felt hot and tight. The shards behind his eyes sliced deeply.

He needed out.

Movement behind him. He twisted his head through quicksand and stared over his shoulder at Chris. The strength in the green gaze bored into him and he growled at the challenge from a Beta. The need to move became excruciating and he loosened his wings, the smell of the air calling.

Chris snapped his wings open, blocking his ability to back away from the threshold and take off. With a snarl, he jerked away, stumbling forward into the hall, and spun to face Chris as the doors shut with a whoosh, and a click announced their locking.

That sound reverberated through him with a finality that dredged up old nightmares. Chris advanced on him, one slow step at a time. Nick shook his head and backed down the hall to keep out of touching distance. Thrown by the challenge, the memories, and twisted by the pain. He spun on his heel and stalked down the corridor. At the first intersection he turned, intending to go to his suite, but Christoff blocked his way again.

Falling into a crouch, he barely held himself in check and growled, “Back off.”

His brother stood his ground, his eyes never wavering. “Hub, Nick. Ian wants to see you.”

Again, Chris pushed his space and he retreated away from physical contact. His brother played collie on his heels the rest of the way; he slammed the door to the Hub open and stalked inside, tossing a glare over his shoulder at the unrepentant herder.

Fully in the room, he cast an assessing glance that took in all activity. Ian had wheeled David up to the monitor island where Jays had a tray of instruments waiting. His explosive arrival had drawn their attention, and they stared at him before Ian murmured something to Jays, who quickly glanced from him to Chris and the door. That look sent alarm skittering through his nerves.

He turned back toward the door, but Chris leaned on the jamb, watching him. The alarm turned to panic, so he shoved it down, transmuting it into aggression.

“Jays,” Ian said, though Nick noted that his keen eyes didn’t cease watching him, “this is David. Let’s get the preliminary paper work and initial tests done, ok?”

Jerking away from that gaze, he paced the long wall.

“Nick? Why don’t you come sit down.”

“No,” he growled. His wings flared out behind him as he paced, and pain sliced through his head again. He pressed at his temples and took a deep breath. He wanted to see Jessica. But that would require getting close to the doctor.

With a snarl, he spun and continued to pace.

Ian and Jays kept on with David’s exam; he stayed as far away as the space allowed, but that didn’t stop him from feeling Ian’s gaze fall on him repeatedly.

His stomach chose that moment to knot up. He doubled over; a gasp escaped his clenched teeth. Slowly raising his head, Nickolas zeroed in on Ian, who had paused taking David’s blood pressure. The doctor’s look tangled with his and a gamut of emotions swamped him.

Anger, betrayal, lack of trust…fear.

The fear threatened to take over. Nickolas backed into the wall. He had seen that look far too often in Ian’s eyes during his change. Ripping his gaze away, he shivered and glanced at the door.
I need to fly. I have to get out of here.

Unfortunately, Chris still stood watch at the door.

You.
Nick found an anchor in his brother’s resolute green gaze.
You brought me here.

He took a step.

Chris pushed away from the wall.

You brought me back to this hell.

Another step.

Not again. Never again.

Chris squared his shoulders and flexed his wings to loosen them.

His vision tunneled, focused on his target. Movement eased the pain but didn’t eliminate it. The open air would fix it.

“Move.”

“Nick…” Chris dropped into a defensive stance, barring the door.

“Nickolas.” The shout came from behind him. He ignored it and surged the last few steps to engage Chris.

An explosive meeting. Chris held him off. Briefly. The two of them exchanged blows, and Chris succeeded in keeping him from the door, but at a cost.

He grabbed Chris by the throat and slammed him into the wall. The sound of glass breaking as things fell from the shaking went unheeded. All the rage that had been building boiled up. Chris’s muscles tensed as he gathered to make a counter. Nickolas smashed him into the wall again, shattering the drywall, then squeezed until only a wheeze of breath could be heard. “Don’t move, Chris, or I’ll rip your throat out. So help me, I won’t be able to stop it.”

His brother’s wide eyes latched on to his, but he wisely held still.

Nick concentrated on reining in the predator instinct before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life. Breathing, the wet rush passed over his lips, the slicing pain still eating away in his head. He still had one, fine, strand of spider silk holding his control. If no one pushed him…

“Nickolas, don’t.” Ian’s voice echoed in his ears, and in his head.

As heavy as stone, his head pivoted to meet Ian’s stare a foot away. The feel of his brother’s pulse raced under his hand, and the quiet rasp of him trying to breathe filled the room. Fine tremors settled into his muscles, and he whispered, “What is happening to me, Ian?”

“Nicky. Let Chris go. Then we’ll talk.”

The strength in Ian’s eyes surrounded him; he turned back to his brother’s matching green, where understanding tried to cover the fear.

“You don’t want to hurt him. You know that. Somewhere inside, you know. Now let your brother go.”

His body reacted to the underlying steel in the command before his mind could process it. His fingers released and he took a step back. He shot a look at Ian, then squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. Through the pain he heard Chris draw in a ragged breath and slip away. Something wet rolled down his lip, and he wiped his hand across his face. Blood.

“Let. Me. Out.” He turned his attention back to Ian. The doctor hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken his eyes off him. “Now.”

“Christoff, go lock the door to the hall, immediately. Jays, get David into room two.”

Watching both as they moved to do Ian’s bidding, Nickolas backed up to the wall.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Let me go.”

Ian studied him for a moment before replying. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I can’t do that.”

He pushed farther into the wall, his wings flattened, and clenched his fists at his side, tipping his head to stare sightlessly at the ceiling.

Silence filled the Hub.

Jays cleared his throat. “David is settled, Ian.”

Nick dropped his head in time to see Ian nod in acknowledgement, his mesmerizing gaze still firmly fixed on him. “When’s the last time you ate, Nickolas?”

“I don’t remember,” he evaded.

“Jays, order food up for David and get extra for Nick. Christoff, did you bring the bag back from the van that I sent with you?”

“Yes, Ian. It’s under the wheelchair.”

“Good. Jays, get it unpacked, ok?”

“Understood, Ian,” he said quietly.

“Come on, Nick. There’s a few tests I want to run.”

Frozen against the wall, he looked at his brother standing in front of the doors, arms crossed, face blank as he watched him. The beginning of bruises spanned his throat.

Jays had one eye on him from the telephone across the room. And Ian…

He stood waiting, a chair pulled out where the equipment they had used on David sat.

The effort it took to regain a modicum of civility left him shaking. He slipped away from the wall, dragging his feet, to where Ian waited for him.

“Sit.” The doctor turned to his equipment and started pulling out some basic gear. “We need to talk.”

He perched on the edge of the chair, every muscle tense for the expected physical contact. Ian roughly shoved his sleeve up and wrapped a pressure cuff about his bicep.

The doctor’s gaze touched on his then went back to his work. “Your stomach is cramping, isn’t it? Sharp pain in your head?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“The timing’s right. You’ve been off of the arresting inhibitor for almost two weeks.”

Arresting inhibitor?

“You likely won’t remember the details of what I’m telling you.” He pulled the Velcro and dumped the cuff on the table. Dictating the numbers to Jays, he started pulling electrodes out of the caddy. “Unbutton your shirt.”

His fingers stiff, he opened his shirt. With brisk efficiency Ian slapped the electrodes to his chest, and Jays watched the monitor. “You’ve entered stage four. You are now in the process of completing the change that was chemically halted fifteen years ago.”