TWO WEEKS LATER
Gillie slumped, bowing
her head over the sink. “You can’t keep sneaking around like this. They’ll kill you if they catch you.”
“If. Don’t worry about me.” He offered a cocky grin.
“I have to. You’re the only friend I have.”
“C’mon, sweetheart. You have to admit you like the adrenaline. You kept Tightass happy by feeding him my breakfast, and then sent him on his way thinking you can’t wait to run off with him. That’s genius.”
Her lips curved into a half smile, despite the fear-induced nausea. “It was kind of funny listening to him talk about you, knowing you could hear every word. Do they know you can leave magnetic impressions on digital recordings?”
Taye shook his head, sitting down at the table. “No, and they won’t until it’s too late either.”
“So they don’t realize you’re manipulating all the cameras down here.” She cracked some more eggs, scrambling them deftly in the skillet. “Or that you have a third power.”
“That’s me.” Bitterness tainted his voice. “The biggest freak in the sideshow.”
Gillie aimed her spatula at him. “At least you’re not the freak who laid the golden egg, nor does the chief torturer want to bang you silly.”
He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Your language is appalling.”
“There’s something seriously wrong with Rowan.”
“Ya think?”
“I mean it. He doesn’t want a real woman. He wants one who doesn’t argue, doesn’t eat, doesn’t have bodily functions . . . just lives to gratify him.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty pathological. If he wasn’t down here torturing us lab rats, he’d be on the streets cutting people into bite-sized pieces.”
“Thing is, this is familiar to me.” Gillie gestured, and he came into the kitchen to serve himself. “There was a serial killer . . . I saw something when I was a kid. I’d only just arrived here. He killed because he was trying to create a lobotomized sex slave.”
“Dahmer,” Taye supplied. “You think Rowan is like him?”
“I think they share certain fantasies. I doubt he could perform with a woman he didn’t perceive as completely submissive.”
He arched a brow. “Should I be worried that you know this stuff?”
“You wouldn’t believe what comes on late-night TV.”
“And you watch it because you don’t like sleeping at night.”
A shudder rolled through her. “No. I don’t want him coming at me while I’m unaware.”
“No wonder he scares you,” he said quietly. “If he figures out you’re not who you pretend to be—”
“It won’t be pretty. But I’ve done what I must to survive.”
“If his obsession with you ever reaches the next level, he’ll come to your bed.”
Gillie propped her elbows on the table. “I know.”
“And what will you do?” There was a peculiar tension in him now.
“I’ll lie there with doe eyes and take it. I want to see the sun again, Taye. Maybe you’d rather I play the medieval maiden and say I’ll die rather than let him sully my body, but he can’t touch me where it matters. I can put up with anything, as long as it means my freedom in the long run. And once I have it, I’ll never let anyone take it from me again.”
“Relax, I’m not judging you. I think you’re incredibly strong.” He dug into his breakfast, probably starving from the time he’d spent hiding in her bathroom.
She dipped her chin. “Are you being funny?”
“Not at all. Not all strength comes from brute force. Ever heard of the power of passive resistance? Gandhi?”
“I hardly think that comparison is appropriate.”
“Look, Gillie, I insisted on these visits because I wanted to stick it to Rowan. I knew it would get into his craw and chafe. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to respect you. Not everyone could adapt and thrive as you have. You’re a rare person.” He cut a square of French toast and looked away. “You give me someone besides myself to think about, someone to fight for. I’m not sure what kind of person I was before Rowan worked on me that second time—and from certain fragments of memory, I don’t think I want to know—but I’m not that guy anymore. I could be better, if I only had the chance.”
His intensity moved her. Gillie reached out and covered his hand with her own. “We’re both getting second chances, and we won’t waste them.”
Taye threaded his fingers through hers. They were both pale, but his hand was a good deal larger. Ordinarily it amused Gillie that he could tweak the cameras to show her sitting alone at the kitchen table, lulling all of Rowan’s suspicions. Now she had the thought that he could do more than hold her hand.
Unlike with Rowan, the contact didn’t give her the creeps. Taye felt warmer than a normal human, as if his gifts fevered him. But his eyes didn’t reflect a febrile glitter. Instead they were the calm, cool green of tropical waters. She’d seen them many times on cruise line commercials.
“What?” he asked. “Do I have food on my face?”
With his free hand, he wiped his mouth with a napkin as Gillie shook her head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. Before, I only had inchoate dreams.
Now
we have plans.”
Taye inclined his head and withdrew his hand, leaving her faintly disappointed. “Speaking of which, we need to use our time wisely.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Your ability isn’t foolproof.” Using electricity, he could manipulate the locks on the cell doors, and not long ago, he’d managed to get himself free. But he wasn’t sure enough of himself to risk their one chance at escape . . . yet. So Taye came to her in these practice runs, bright with the pleasure of sticking it to their captor. Silas knew, of course, but he had his own reasons to hate Rowan. The doctor could compel his obedience, but not cooperation; the two differed vastly.
“Nor do I have it wholly under control.” For the first time, his voice reflected a touch of strain, and she realized belatedly that the whole time they’d been talking, he had to concentrate on the cameras. It was a wonder he could communicate at all.
“God, I’m so stupid. Show me walking to the bathroom.”
Taye grasped her intent at once and followed her. Gillie made a habit of checking the toilet for audio bugs, and there was no place to hide a camera. The room was small, but they squeezed in. She helped matters along by stepping into the shower stall. That gave him the space to flip down the toilet lid and take a seat.
“Thanks,” he said. “Now I can focus on you fully.”
Gillie put her back to the wall and slid into a seated position. The tingles his words created—however he’d meant them—signaled sexual attraction. It wasn’t unexpected; he was the only viable potential mate in her social sphere. She had to ignore the feelings, regardless how intriguing and new they were.
“Good. Now, last time, we established the timeline. You’ve been laying the groundwork with the cameras. How long before we’re ready to go?”
“Another week at least,” he answered. “Possibly two. I’m still working on control. I won’t hurt you when I blow the equipment, and right now I’m not good enough with overload to guarantee your safety.”
“So you keep practicing. What’s my role?”
His mouth twisted. “I need you to keep Rowan distracted. I hate asking you, but—”
“I don’t mind. I’ve been playing to him for years. I can handle another week or two. I just hope I get to show him how wrong he was about me before the end.” Gillie smiled with fierce anticipation.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if comes to a choice between making sure he’s dead and getting out of here, we have to choose the latter.”
“I understand. Freedom is more important than revenge. You can count on me.”
“I’m aware. You have the heart of a lion, Gillie Flynn.”
She didn’t deny it. A lesser soul would’ve broken in the crucible of her life, but hardship had steeled her determination for things not to end here. The world awaited her, and she would do wondrous things.
“Thanks. But you, you give me something I sorely needed.”
“What’s that?” He should have looked absurd, reclining on her toilet. Instead he turned it into a throne. There was a faint, almost perceptible aura of power about him as if through the cruelty of a madman, he had transcended the human condition.
“Faith. For all my dreaming, I don’t know that I could’ve gotten out of here alone.”
At least, not without yielding to Rowan, becoming his creature completely in the hope of once more living in the light. Sickness coiled through her, and she put trembling fingers to her face. She didn’t realize he’d moved until he brushed her hair back.
Gillie didn’t recoil. He crouched before her on the bathroom floor, all concern. You’d never know he could turn an electrical device into chain lightning by looking at him. His tenderness threatened to undo her completely.
“What’s the matter? I’m sorry. I don’t remember how to deal with people. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she whispered. “You do everything right. You’re the
only
thing that’s right.”
And then she kissed him.
Gillie had been
alone for two days.
That wouldn’t have been a problem, except during the past few weeks, she’d grown accustomed to company. She didn’t know if something had happened to Taye, or if she’d scared him with that clumsy kiss. God knew, he hadn’t seemed swept away by it.
She tested the memory of his reaction like a sore spot on the inside of her cheek and found it still tender. For all of ten seconds, he’d kissed her back, his mouth fever-hot and hungry, and then he’d shoved her away, as if he were a frightened virgin.
“That’s not a good idea,” he’d said quietly.
She’d hunched her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“No. We’re getting out of here. Soon I won’t be your only choice, and you’d be sorry if I hadn’t stopped things.” Taye cupped her chin in his hand, eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to dispose of your virginity like this, as a defense from Rowan.”
“It was just a kiss,” she’d muttered. “It’s not like I demanded sex.”
With determination, she shoved away the faintly humiliating recollection. A kiss she’d instigated on the bathroom floor hardly qualified as magical. The awkwardness didn’t prevent her from worrying about him, however.
Her heart skittered in her chest as she stepped out of her quarters. They had long since ceased locking the door. Rowan deemed her no flight risk; that much was sure. Of course, the crazy bastard also thought she wanted to run away with him, so there was no accounting for the way his mind worked.
The white, clinical corridors contrasted markedly with the mock normalcy of her décor. She liked to pretend she was an ordinary girl with a small apartment, a television, and a job she hated. That was one reason she never came out into the facility proper; it destroyed the illusion. There was no grass, no sky, no sun, just endless white and soulless metal, as far as the eye could see. Overhead, the fluorescent lights offered the same wattage day after day. She didn’t know how Rowan could choose this life for himself when the whole world beckoned.
Every instinct told her to return to her apartment. It was safe in there. Instead, she picked her way carefully down the hall. Silas often brought her this way for treatments, and she knew the cells lay past the treatment rooms. She had been kept in one until Rowan grew confident she could be trusted.
And what will he say if he finds you wandering, hmm?
She got her lie ready.
I was looking for you. It’s been several days since I saw you.
Yes, that would work. If the words fed his ego and his delusions, he’d believe them. Gillie could envision how his face would soften and he’d give that awful smile. This time he might kiss her. She steeled herself against the possibility.
At least it won’t be my first
.
Gillie tiptoed past the treatment rooms. From within, she heard low moans of pain. That meant the techs were working, carrying out the doctor’s instructions. She hardly dared to breathe as she went by.
She continued down the corridor. The horror of the cells struck her anew. They were eight by eight, and each contained only a commode and a cot. An industrial drain lay in the middle of the floor, necessary because the test subjects were hosed off once a week from a spigot in the ceiling.
Some of the walls were spattered with blood, or other, less readily recognizable substances. A few of the subjects sat and rocked; others lay in the fetal position on their cots. Two paced like animals. Another pressed her hands against the glass as Gillie went by. She stopped, unable to help herself, unable to deny the woman this moment of connection. Aching, she pressed her palms to the glass from her side. There was cognition in the other woman’s eyes.
Kill me,
she mouthed.
Gillie tugged on her pink scrubs, which were the only things Rowan ever ordered for her to wear. She found that faintly creepy, but at least she was out of the gray, institutional pajamas the other subjects had on. At last, the woman seemed to realize Gillie wasn’t wearing a badge.
