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  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? You don’t want to be invincible? You don’t want all your aches and pains healed? What about that nasty scar you have? It seems to have disappeared. I can promise you a dose like the one you got the other day every month. That’s what we all take. The blood seems to take a month to wear off. Are you certain you don’t want that very badly?”

  “I don’t want it at all.”

  He laughed. “Well, we’ll see. There is also the fact that if you help me, I’ll let you out of your room. You can watch the monitors, talk to me. You won’t be all alone, losing your mind in a tiny, confined space.”

  I gritted my teeth. He was an asshole. “I’ll never help you.”

  He sighed. “Very well. I’ll take you back to your room now. If you change your mind, talk to the camera.” He smiled. “I’ll be watching.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I’d like to say that was the last time I ever talked to him. I wish I was strong, that I’d chosen to stay in my room and rot away. But I wasn’t strong. I was pathetic. I was barely back in my small room for three days before I began to make little excuses. If I cooperated, or seemed to cooperate, I might be able to find things out. If I got him to trust me, maybe I’d get more freedoms. Maybe I’d be able to figure out a way out of here, and I’d rescue everyone. But I couldn’t do anything if I were stuck in here.

  I wanted to help everyone. I wanted to escape. I told myself that was why I accepted his offer. It made it easier to live with myself. But it could have easily been because I was bored. The boredom was worse than anything I had ever experienced, and it was cutting into my brain and making me absolutely crazy. It could have easily been because I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  I announced it to the camera abruptly, about four days after he offered it to me. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  There was no response at first, but the next day, he was there when I woke up, holding the handcuffs. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  I got out of bed. “I bet you are.”

  He put the cuffs on me and took me back to the control room.

  “So, where is everybody else, huh?” I said. “There were at least twelve people in general population to draw our blood. They around somewhere? Or am I not allowed to see them?”

  “You’re my little project,” Bartholomew said. “They wanted to kill you. I don’t expect that you’ll be grateful I saved your life, of course.” He led me to one of the desks in front of the monitors and sat me down. “At least not at first. But I’ve already grown quite fond of you, and I’m hoping, in time, you’ll grow fond of me as well.”

  Not likely. But I bit my tongue. I was trying to cooperate here, not antagonize him. I needed information. He hadn’t refused to answer my question exactly. He’d confirmed that there were others like him. That he wasn’t alone. I decided to push a little bit. “Why do you have Moretti’s book?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not here to provide you information. That’s your job.” He sat down next to me and pointed at the screen. “Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out why we can’t get these immortals to breed, shall we?”

  Okay, well, I’d have to work him down. Over time, he’d start to slip up, if he trusted me. I had to gain his trust. That meant I had to help him. I forced myself to look at the monitors. “Well, there’s only three of them down there now.”

  “We have others,” said Bartholomew. “If you think the introduction of more people would help, then we can try that.”

  I considered telling him to put Jason back. But I didn’t think Bartholomew would go for it, and I wasn’t sure that general population was all that preferable to isolation. Certainly, it was nice not to be alone. But the mind-numbing boredom was a problem no matter where you were. “I’m only saying that you don’t have ideal subjects.”

  He scooted his chair closer, his eyes gleaming. “How so?”

  I swallowed. It felt awful thinking about the people down there as pawns to be manipulated, but I found that I was capable of it. “Emma doesn’t seem to be... mentally stable.”

  Bartholomew sighed. “She’s proved herself before, though. She’s one of the few to deliver a healthy child.”

  “Which you took away from her,” I said. “How likely is it that she’s going to want to have any other children?” I turned to him. “Speaking of which, where is her child?”

  Bartholomew waved a hand lazily. “Here somewhere.”

  How could he be so cavalier? But I had to mimic his attitude, or he’d suspect I wasn’t actually helping him. Was I actually going to help him? I took a deep breath. “Humans tend to pair bond and form strong attachments. Emma probably wouldn’t be likely to want to attempt anything again unless she had her family with her.”

  “Perhaps,” said Bartholomew. “I’ll consider it.”

  Okay. Well, maybe I wasn’t being so awful either. I was sure Emma would be happier if he did that. I was feeling a little less guilty about this entire enterprise.

  “Let’s put Emma aside for a bit,” said Bartholomew. “We haven’t been focusing on her for some time. I’m far more interested in Boone and Grace.”

  My stomach turned over.

  “You know them both. You spent quite a lot of time with Boone, in particular,” he said. “They’re both young and healthy, but they don’t seem to ever even spend any time together. We saw some progress at one point, but since we removed you and the brothers from the general population, there’s been nothing.”

  Progress. I remembered Grace saying that Boone had kissed her. That’s what he must mean. I didn’t want to do this to Grace and Boone, especially not to Grace. But if I didn’t demonstrate something useful to Bartholomew, I wouldn’t be able to get closer to him and get us out of here. I’m doing this to help them escape, I told myself. It’s ultimately for their own good. “I think they’re attracted to each other,” I said.

  “I thought so too,” said Bartholomew. “But they do seem to argue a lot.”

  “Because of their attraction,” I said.

  “Boone has gone to great lengths to keep himself from mating with Grace, even when the agent is present.”

  “The agent?” I said.

  “You called it an aphrodisiac,” said Bartholomew. He winked at me. “It seemed quite effective in your case.”

  Bile rose in my throat. This man had seen me make love to Jason. He’d watched me, and now he was throwing it in my face. I was revolted. I stood up. “Forget it. Take me back to my room. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down into my seat. “Now, now. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  I pulled my arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I must admit there was something quite primal and exciting about the two of you together.” He got a faraway look in his eyes.

  “You’re a pervert,” I said. “You like to watch because you can’t get any on your own.”

  “No,” he said. “Simply because I can no longer remember what it’s like to care that deeply about anything. Immortality tends to make everything rather mundane. Nothing is new or exciting.” He sighed. “I miss excitement.”

  I got out of my chair again. “I’m done.”

  He stood up. “Perhaps that’s enough for today.”

  “Forever,” I said. “I’m not doing this.”

  “Let’s see how you feel tomorrow morning,” he said.

  * * *

  Back in my room, I swore under my breath, wondering how I could possibly have convinced myself that anything good could come from working with that monster. He was the person who’d trapped me, who’d taken away my power. He’d violated me, forcing me to do things against my will. He’d watched me, and the thought made me feel dirty. I wanted a shower, but I only had a sink. I could wash myself with it, but I didn’t want to take my jumpsuit off in front of the camera.

  I would never do what he asked.

  But the hours wore away. I felt the boredom b
egin to gnaw at me again. The loneliness.

  I would try again. I needed to keep in mind my goals. I needed to find out certain things. Where were we? How did the people like Bartholomew come and go? How could I get out? Where was Jason? How could I get him out?

  Jason and I had controlled the minds of thousands of people. We’d forced them to fight against each other and kill each other. If I could handle the fact that I was directly responsible for killing so many people, I could handle helping Bartholomew make two teenagers get in on. It wasn’t such a horrible thing. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t wanted to have sex when I was a teenager.

  But this was far different, and I knew it.

  Still, I had to do it. I had to do it, because it was the only way out.

  * * *

  When Bartholomew took me to the control room the next day, he showed me a recording of Jude and Boone tying Grace to her bed with her blankets and bed sheets. She was yelling at them, and they were sweating. They desperately tried to explain to her that it was better if they weren’t near each other. It was too tempting for everyone.

  The video made me feel sick. I did my best to forget I’d ever seen it.

  Bartholomew spread his hands. “Why resist it? The two of them were stronger than her. They wanted her. She wanted it too. Why did they stop it from happening?”

  How could he be so obtuse? “Grace is young.”

  He tapped his chin. “Nobility?”

  “Yes,” I said. “They don’t want to hurt her.”

  He leaned back in his chair, puzzling over this. “The agent is quite strong. I would have thought it would override any cultural inhibitions. Besides, they must know there would be no punishment.”

  “Fear of punishment isn’t the only reason people don’t do wrong things,” I said.

  Bartholomew nodded. “Of course, you’re right. I had simply forgotten.”

  Forgotten? I arched an eyebrow.

  “I’ve been alive for a long time, my dear,” he said. “And I don’t feel such urges of conscience anymore.”

  “Obviously not,” I muttered.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I like you very much.”

  Was that a good thing? Could I ask a question now? “Do you live here or do you have another home?”

  “Here, of course,” he said.

  So that meant he didn’t leave on a regular basis. That wasn’t good. What if none of them did? What if there was no way out of here at all? But that couldn’t be true, because they had to be getting food from somewhere. And if they sold the Nephilim blood, then they had to take it out of this place. There had to be a way out.

  “Let’s get back to Boone,” he said. “You’re saying that he doesn’t mate with her because he actually likes her. And that he’s rude to her to protect her. From himself.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Fascinating,” he said.

  “Obvious,” I said.

  He smiled. “To you, perhaps, yes.” He got out of his chair and walked closer to the monitors. They were now displaying pictures of the way things currently were in general population. Grace and Boone crossed each other in the hallway. Neither spoke to the other. He nodded. “Yes, obvious indeed. I wouldn’t have seen it myself. But it makes sense.” He looked at me. “So, we must convince Boone that he wouldn’t be betraying his nobility if he mated with Grace.”

  I gulped. “Yes.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Is Grace unwilling, do you think? Is she frightened?”

  I wanted to tell him yes. I wanted to tell him it was a lost cause. Gain his trust. Make him think you’re helping, I reminded myself. “I don’t think so. She’s curious. And she seems quite taken with Boone.”

  “Well, that’s something, at least,” he said. “But I’m unsure how we could change Boone’s mind. Perhaps we could send down some alcohol. If he got drunk, he’d lose any sense of nobility.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “He’d monitor his drinking, or he’d avoid Grace. I don’t think mind-altering substances is the answer. If you want it to really stick, you’ll need for it to feel ‘real’ to them.”

  “Real?” Bartholomew grinned. “That’s wonderful. How do we do that?”

  I had no idea. I didn’t want to force these two together at all. Not really. But I had to think of something to tell him. “Maybe if you got them in the same room together, and there was no way out, they’d at least have to start talking.”

  “No, we’ve tried trapping the two of them together in one place. They don’t mate.” He shook his head.

  “You’ll have to be a little patient,” I said. “It might take some time. The first step is to get them to talk to each other.”

  He considered. “I have time.” He sat back in his chair. “What’s the next step?”

  I didn’t know. I scrambled to think of something. Anything. “Um, it will depend on how the first step plays out.”

  Bartholomew raised his eyebrows. “All right then. I suppose you’ll have to see how they handle it, then. I’ll come get you later so that you can watch it unfold.”

  I didn’t think I wanted to watch it unfold. I felt disgusting. But while I was in his good graces, maybe I could get him to give me more information. As he walked me back to my room, I asked, “You mentioned before that it’s difficult to kill immortals. Is it impossible?”

  “No,” he said. “A beheading always works. If you prevent healing, you can incapacitate them indefinitely as well.”

  “Prevent healing?” I said. We were at the door to my room. “I assume that goes for those of us who’ve ingested the blood as well.”

  “It does,” he said, opening my door. “The body can’t heal around foreign objects if the damage is great enough. It probably started the whole stake-in-the-heart tradition.”

  “Vampires,” I said.

  “Such a silly word, don’t you agree?” he said. He shut the door after me, locking me inside.

  My breakfast tray was on the floor. It had gone cold. I ate it anyway. I was starving.

  As I ate, I pondered Bartholomew’s response to my questions. He didn’t seem like a stupid man, not exactly. So, I thought he might be aware that I was trying to get information from him. After all, he hadn’t answered my question about Moretti. But he’d been free with other pieces of info, even telling me how I could kill him. If he wasn’t doing that because he was an idiot, then he must be doing it for some other reason.

  I thought it was because he was too arrogant to think that telling me anything mattered. He didn’t think that I was a threat. He had been alive for a long time. He took his life for granted. He took his safety for granted.

  I could use his arrogance, I thought. If I could play up to his high opinion of himself, I could get even more information. Maybe I really could get out of here. Get us all out of here. Maybe.

  * * *

  “The dinner bell,” Bartholomew said, looking awfully pleased with himself. “We rang it once for Emma, waited until she had gone, and then rang it later for both Grace and Boone.” He gestured at the screen, where Boone was just coming out of the door of his wing. Grace was already at one of the tables, shoveling food into her mouth. “Now, we lock them in.” His fingers flew over the keyboard.

  I tried to see what he was typing, but he moved too quickly. I made out a “C.” Some numbers. But Boone had been right earlier when he said that everything was controlled by computer.

  Bartholomew noticed I was watching him. He raised his eyebrows.

  I thought fast. Play up his arrogance , I reminded myself. “I’m amazed that you’re so computer literate if you’ve been alive as long as you say. There are a lot of old people who don’t even bother to try to understand computers. You do.”

  He chuckled, looking flattered. “I like machinery. It’s quite ordered and easy to follow. Programmed. If only the immortals were as simple to figure out.” He pointed. “But you’re missing it. Watch.”

  I turned my attention back to the monitors.
They showed the main room from eight different angles. Boone had his tray in hand, heading back to his room, the way he usually did. Grace hadn’t even looked up from her food. I could see her face, the back of her head, Boone in profile. It was odd watching the multiple images of them move at the same time. Boone tried the door. It didn’t open.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  I felt a little charge of excitement. I’d done something to their environment and now they were reacting. It was kind of cool. Immediately, I felt guilty for feeling it.

  “What?” said Grace.

  He shot her an annoyed glance. He didn’t say anything. He went to the next door and tried it. Locked. The next. Same thing.

  “You can talk to me, you know, cuntface,” said Grace.

  He pressed his lips together in a firm line. “I think we’re locked in.”

  “Seriously?” She looked annoyed too. Getting up from her meal, she went to check the other doors. “Yup. Tight as a drum.”

  Boone swung so that his face was straight on one of the cameras. “You bastards.”

  I flinched.

  “How horrible,” said Grace. “You’ll have to eat dinner with me.”

  Boone slammed his tray down on the table next to Grace. “You know it’s not about that.”

  “I know you don’t want to be anywhere near me,” she said.

  He glared at her. “It’s easier that way. You know they’re going to drug our food again one of these days, and we’re both going to turn into animals.”

  She poked her food with her fork. “Right. I guess it’s like beer goggles on steroids, right? You’d wake up next to me and want to chew your arm off, because I was so ugly.”

  Boone pulled the plastic wrap off his tray. “I never said you were ugly. I mean, you’re annoying as hell, but not ugly.”

  She sat up a little straighter. “Really?”

  He pointed at her with his fork. “See? That. That’s why it’s better if we don’t talk. Because you take any halfway nice thing I say to you as an admission that I’m madly in love with you or something. Newsflash. I’m not.”