Skinwalker
Chapter 17

“Morning,” a sleepy voice cuts into the silence.

I slap the file I’m reading shut and look up to see a young woman with oversized black rimmed glasses, putting her things at one of the workstations.

Annamarie is the name I pull from Brittany’s memories.

“Good morning,” I reply before glancing at the clock on the wall.

It’s just before 7AM, which means I’ve been poring over subhuman files for about two hours now. I know Brittany could have given me all of this information, but I felt obligated to learn it on my own. I want to know what Genetics Incorporated knows, not what my host does. I want to learn this for myself.

“Did you print the schedule?” Annamarie inquires as she leans over her desk, logging into her computer.

“Uh, no.” I’d gotten so caught up in what I wanted, I forgotten to take into consideration what Brittany’s morning routine is. Crap. “I was reviewing.” I glance at the file in my hand, “The new mages file.” They’d never call him Levi.

When I found his file in the cabinet my heart fell into my stomach. Time slowed and everything around me disappeared. I spent longer shuffling through the pages in his file than was necessary, reading information about him I know better than anyone here ever could, and as I read, I realized how much I truly missed him.

I hadn’t taken a single moment to truly mourn his abduction.

“We have another mage?”

“They brought him in Thursday evening.” It’s Monday; has it really been four days?

“What do we need another one of those for?”

“The last one didn’t survive treatment.”

Mages are an endangered species; every time a new one is born their chances of being a mute rise. For too many generations they’ve washed away their magical blood by breeding with humans instead of other mages. While they’re trying to recoup their numbers by purifying their genetics, there are only eight-hundred and forty-six remaining on the entire planet. One recently died and if I don’t do something about Levi it won’t be long until that number falls again.

“And you’re looking over his file, because?” Her voice says more than her words do; you’re wasting your time. Mages are too common for the geneticists that work with hybrids.

To Brittany and Annamarie Levi is nothing. He’s so far beneath them that if he were a bug, they’d squash him without a second thought. I must remember this if I ever want to leave this place with him. The only thing either of them would replace extraordinary about him, is me. “He’s our link to that skinwalker.” It says so, right in his file.

The only thing that saved me the night Levi was captured was skinwalking. I looked like Kendal, a tail, and not Piper the hybrid they were looking for. If they were smarter, they would have just taken me anyways. If they know what I am, they should know I can be any female I want on a whim.

There’s a moments consideration on her angular face before a smile breaks the corner of Annamarie’s wide mouth and her round cheeks lift her glasses. “We’re finally making progress on that?”

I nod and return a smile but mine is for an entirely different reason.

Genetics Incorporated believes they’ll replace me somewhere in Arizona, distraught over the disappearance of Levi. They have no idea that I’m a woman on a warpath, and I’m already inside their doors.

“Perhaps we should request a treatment transfer for him?” Annamarie suggests. “Maybe we could learn something from him.”

Looking at the cover of Levi’s file, I debate the pros and cons of this plan.

“I want him,” I say, trying not to sound too desperate.

Her wicked smile is disappearing. “Of course, you do.” She pushes her glasses back up her nose before turning her focus back to her computer.

I can almost hear her eyes roll when her back is facing me. It doesn’t matter what her opinion is of Brittany.

This morning, after appearing scatterbrained and disorganized, I realized I needed to give into Brittany’s pull more than I actually wanted to. I was spending too much time shuffling through her memories to make her work routine look and feel natural. My mannerisms caught Annamarie’s attention once, thankfully it was casually brushed to the side with a comment about a lack of sleep. Mistakes like that will get me caught.

It took my entire lunchbreak, laying in the back seat of Brittany’s car meditating, for me to let my walls down. To be blunt, Brittany’s thoughts are poison, and I don’t want them stirring around with my own. My thoughts about the cure are already mixed enough as it is.

When I first heard about the cure, I thought it could be a good thing, there are some species that shouldn’t exist. I know it’s a harsh thing to say about a population I’m part of, and other subhumans would disagree with me, but they don’t know what it’s like to be a hybrid. They don’t know what it’s like to be abandoned by your family, sought out because of your ability, manipulated by your government, and needing to hide what you are. I fear with my experiences and my past, that If I let my guard down, if I let too much of Brittany in, she could corrupt my intentions.

It’s been too long since I’ve skinwalked and using a host like this; a host with such strong and powerful beliefs is dangerous. After my hiatus, it’s not impossible for me to lose myself in my ability. In fact, it’s more likely because I’m not as in tune as I once was.

Being Piper is going to be as much of a task as being Brittany.

“Will you take my 13:15?” Annamarie asks.

We’re standing at the filing cabinets where I posted the schedule this morning. We both have someone scheduled at that time, our first appointment slots after lunch. Momentarily I consider an exchange, but my slot is filled with Catherine Lucella, and I cannot give her up. Hers is Logan Soto, and I need time with him, too.

“Why don’t you want him?” I can’t act too anxious despite how much in my favor this transaction is going to be. I get to see two of the people I need to see in one day, without negotiations or suspicions.

“He’s,” she pauses, thinking of how she wants to describe him. “Changed.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“He isn’t as easy to be around as he once was.”

What does that mean, easy to be around? I wouldn’t be easy to be around if I were any of these people, either. I filter through my hosts memories of the demi-demon, but she has nothing to teach me. Her memory seems to be void of interactions with, and information about, him. He’s always been Annamarie’s patient.

For a moment I debate if I really want to be in one of the treatment rooms with a demi-demon telepath whose recently changed his behavior. I would wager Genetics Incorporated could be a place that brings out the worst in him.

Demi-demons are notoriously difficult subhumans to be around; as the children of full-blooded demons from hell, they’re known to be temperamental, untrustworthy, risk takers, and they generally involve themselves with shady business. Many infamous criminals throughout history have been demi-demons including serial killers, organized crime leaders, and sociopaths.

Telepaths, as a species of their own, are manipulative and opportunistic; they spend their time hearing peoples thoughts and selling them lies, much like psychics or clairvoyants. While that’s not true of them all, there are enough who behave this way to make that their stereotype.

Put the two together and that creates Logan Soto, a demi-demon telepath who has recently had a change of personality. I could only assume it’s thanks to this place. Somehow, they’ve suppressed his ability and he’s suffering the consequences of it.

Regardless, I have a job to do. “Alright.” Then I’m reminded to add some of my hosts flair to it. “But you’re resulting all of my samples at the end of the day.” She isn’t about charity work.

I can almost feel her sigh of relief leave my chest. “Thanks.”

I scratch her name off the 13:15 slot with Logan and write Brittany over it. Catherine, Logan, and someone named Neut fill the remainder of my lab time today. Annamarie’s assignment has only one name left on it, Cassandra. Similarly, my host has no memories of the witch, meaning she’s been under my lab partners care since arriving and I’m not going to get a direct opportunity to see her. I’m going to have to make one but today is not that day. Catherine and Logan are enough and I’m beginning to feel a deep exhaustion from holding onto my host for so long.

Before Catherine or Logan arrive, I look through their charts to see what results came back over the few days my host wasn’t around to care for them. I’m due to meet the princess of the subhuman government in ten minutes for a quick assessment and a lab draw, which means I need to set room one up.

The rooms are all the same; stocked with the same supplies so any procedure that needs to be done, can be, no matter which room is available. In the middle of the sterile feeling room is a metal framed lab chair with padding on the seat, back, and arms that attempt make it seem somewhat comfortable. The fact that it’s bolted into the cement ground, with thick leather straps on the arms and legs, and large gauge d-rings built into the floor around it, makes it less inviting.

The remainder of the room is set up just like one would imagine an urgent care or emergency room to look. In the cabinets along the wall there’s a sink to wash up, gloves mounted on the wall, and a sharps container next to them. I move through the drawers, collecting two twenty-one-gauge butterfly needles, a transfer device, and the various colored tubes I need to fill with blood. Those go on a portable metal tray I will take to her chairside with me. I toss on alcohol wipes and gauze, as well before printing the lab request, I know by heart. It is set on the counter along with the stickers I need to label the tubes with.

From the nurses’ station I hear a guard telling Annamarie they’re here with, “the little vampire.”

She directs them to lab room one, where I’m waiting.

If I didn’t know the petite teenager, they were dragging was Catherine, I wouldn’t have suspected it. Her skin isn’t creamy like it would normally be, instead she’s ashen and sick looking. Her feet are dragging on the floor with no socks or shoes for protection, and there are two guards holding her at her shoulders. Her head is slack, and her blonde hair is tangled in rats’ nests. The queen would be livid if she knew her sister was being treated like this.

“What did you do to her?” I ask, astonished.

“We didn’t do nothin’, we found her like this,” says the one holding her left arm.

Together they lift her into the chair and strap her down.

Once they’ve made sure she’s secure I check her pulse. As I search for it, I hold my own breath as if that somehow helps. Did I just feel a beat? I wait again, and eventually another comes. To every fifteen beats of my own heart, she has one, and it’s weak. For all intense and purposes, the girl is considered alive.

It’s a common misconception that vampires have no pulse. Technically they’re dead, but their heart still beats, just at a significantly slower rate of roughly 25 beats per minute. It’s just enough to keep their blood from clotting while still distributing nutrients from feedings, to keep them alive.

Catherine’s slow pulse could be sped up a bit, its sluggishness and her lethargy are both signs of malnutrition but it’s not severe enough that there’s any immediate danger to her. They haven’t been feeding her and she’s clearly conserving energy which is why she allowed the guards to drag her here.

Finally, my host acted the way she should. Her ability to know what the normal vital signs of a vampire are and how to assess them, came to me naturally. I didn’t have to listen to her answer my questions or guide me through anything. It happened as naturally to me as it would to her.

When the two guards exit the room, I close the door and pull the privacy curtain. If I speak quietly, they won’t be able to hear me and with the curtains pulled they can’t see us. If I remember to keep my back to the black dome camera next to the door, I’ll be in decent shape. It doesn’t record audio.

“Catherine?” I pretend to continue checking her pause. “Catherine, can you hear me?” I snap my fingers in front of her face.

I don’t want to get any more abrasive than this. To be truthful, I don’t even want to be this close to her because I don’t know how well those restraints work. While I know who I am, she will open her eyes and see Brittany, a fleshy target, who will help to cure her hunger. It may take her a while to realize there’s an aura in the lab technicians’ eyes that has never been there before.

“Open your eyes.”

The girls’ eyes snap open and her whole-body jerks in the chair causing me to take several hasty steps backwards. Catherine struggles against the restraints but only for a moment and then she’s still, looking around the room. She smells the air and then her attention is on me.

“You should not be here,” she says.

I continue my assessment, keeping my back to the camera. “Your sister sent me.”

Catherine has never been as good at hiding her emotions as her sister is; they play all over her face. “You left.”

No longer worried about the hunger deep within the girl who was once my closest friend. I sit on the rolling stool and scoot closer to her.

“Stop talking,” I advise. “I’m here to help, that’s all you need to know right now.”

I unroll the tourniquet I plan to tie around her upper arm and stretch it between my hands.

Catherine leans against her chair, pressing her body into it. “Please don’t do this. They haven’t fed me in weeks.”

How dangerous would she be if I convinced someone to give her blood? How dead will she become if I don’t take a chance? Will a packet of blood give her enough strength to slaughter everyone under this roof or is it just enough to keep her alive for a few more days? I must do something.

I tie the band around her forearm.

“I’ll figure something out.”