Rebellion (The Praegressus Project Book 4) Read online

  Then Jasmine was falling, her legs giving way, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as she collapsed.

  And Liz was stepping forward to catch her, a single word screaming through her mind.

  No, no, no!

  Chapter 12

  Chris shivered as the frigid blast of the air conditioner struck his naked body. Stretching his wings, he wrapped himself in their soft embrace. On the other side of the room, Ashley was already doing the same. Shining white feathers hid her nudity, although he noticed there were now patches on her wings where her feathers had begun to moult. It had been weeks since they’d seen sunlight, since they’d been able to stretch their wings and soar, and their captivity was beginning to take its toll.

  The whine of the air conditioner flickered, and Chris braced himself for the return of the icy air. The chain attached to his collar rattled as he moved and came up short, fixing him in place. Ashley sported an identical chain, a steel leash that ran from her collar to a solid bolt in the floor.

  This was how they had slept for weeks—stripped naked and chained like dogs at the foot of the Director’s bed. He could hear the shower now, could see the steam billowing out from the en-suite bathroom. It drifted across the room, forming a light fog over the massive king bed. Looking at the soft cotton sheets and sleek silk duvet, Chris’s stomach twisted with yearning. He longed for a hot shower and a proper bed, to escape the hard tiles and freezing air conditioner—if only for a night.

  The two walls against which he and Ashley leaned were plain white concrete, their surfaces unadorned, but the far wall was taken up by a massive LED screen. As far as he’d seen, there was not a single window in the facility, but the screen almost made up for it. At the moment, it showed the towering trunks and tangled branches of a forest. Brilliant green leaves swayed in the breeze, so detailed even Chris’s hyper-sensitive vision could barely tell the difference from real life. As he watched, a brown squirrel darted across the leaf-strewn grass and raced up a tree trunk.

  Shivering, he looked away, wishing he could join the furry forest creature. His gaze settled on Ashley, and he swallowed as he found her amber eyes staring at him. She shifted on the floor, her wings falling away for a moment, giving him a clear view of her luxurious curves. The weeks of sparse food and sleepless nights had taken their toll, but there was still no denying the beauty of her lithe body.

  “How could you do it, Chris?” Ashley asked softly.

  Chris found himself drawn back to her amber eyes and swallowed. “I didn’t mean too–”

  “Not the girl,” Ashley interrupted, “If anything, you did her a favour.”

  Pulling his knees up to his chest, Chris leaned his head against his clenched hands. He knew what Ashley was asking. “What else could I have done, Ash?”

  “You could have not helped them,” she hissed, eyes flashing.

  Chris sighed and spread his hands. “They were doomed either way.”

  Ashley slowly shook her head, her fists clenched in little balls. “But you know what happens next. How many kids did you just sentence to death, Chris?”

  Closing his eyes, Chris swallowed, trying to keep the pain from his voice. Finally, he managed to suck in a breath. When he opened his eyes, Ashley was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

  “What could I have done, Ash?” he repeated, “She broke me. I just can’t fight her anymore. I don’t know where you get the courage.”

  Ashley looked away at that, and for a minute there was silence. Chris leaned back, listening to the roar of the shower, wondering how much time they had left. Five minutes? Ten? He dreaded what would come next—though it wasn’t him that would suffer.

  “When they caught us, when they had us cornered in the lecture theatre, I’d never been so frightened,” Ashley’s whisper carried across the room, “It was Independence Square all over again. I froze on that stage, Chris. All I could think was that my worst fear had come true, that I was going to be caught and thrown back in a cage,” she sucked in a breath and continued, “Then you screamed for my help, and I looked around and saw you all fighting for your lives, and I realised it didn’t matter. That I’d already faced the worst they could throw at me, and survived.”

  “But why did you stay, Ash?” Chris asked, eyes fixed to the floor. His voice broke as he continued, “Why didn’t you run when I distracted him? You could have saved yourself.”

  “I know,” Ashley replied, “but I couldn’t let him kill you, Chris. As foolish, as hopeless as it was, I couldn’t leave you to fight him alone.”

  “And now you’re trapped here with me, suffering your worst nightmare, and somehow you’re the one with the courage to resist her.” Chris’s voice was bitter, filled with self-loathing.

  “It’s not courage if you’re not afraid,” Ashley replied. Chris looked up at that, brow creased, and she continued, “I realised something else in that lecture theatre. As awful and cruel and tormented as Halt was, it wasn’t those things that terrified me. It was that feeling of being powerless, of being used to manipulate Sam. So she can torture me all she likes, it won’t make a difference. I will never let them use me like that again, Chris. Never.”

  Looking up, Chris stared into Ashley’s eyes, and frowned. Despite the dim light in the bedroom, they seemed to glow with a light of their own, with a golden sheen that set her face alight. Then she blinked, and she was just Ashley again.

  “Well, well, well,” the lights brightened as the Director strode into the room, “Do I hear my pets talking?”

  Pressing his lips firmly closed, Chris shook his head.

  The Director smiled, her naked body still dripping water. Her short blonde hair clung to her neck, but otherwise there was not a hair on her body. She slowly patted herself dry in front of them, taking no care to hide the tight mounds of her breasts. Finally she tied the towel around her hair. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked from Chris to Ashley.

  “No?” she smiled. “Very good.”

  Moving to the bed, she threw herself down on her stomach and turned herself so she faced them. She leaned her chin on her hands and studied them with a curious smile.

  “Such interesting creatures,” she murmured. “You have no idea.”

  Chris looked up at her. “What do you mean, ma’am?” he whispered.

  The Director laughed. “I’ve been reading Halt’s writings. I’m no scientist, but it’s fascinating stuff,” her voice was light, almost friendly, “The things he and that Doctor Fallow did, the genes he managed to recombine into your genetic makeup. Those reflexes you showed today—you saw the girl, reacted, moved, killed, all before even my best guards could blink. According to Halt’s notes, those traits—your speed, agility, reflexes—came from the recombination of genes from Bassariscus astutus and Suricata suricatta.”

  “And what the hell are those?” Ashley asked flatly.

  Chris shivered as the Director turned to look at Ashley. The Director’s brow hardened, and there was a distinct warning in her tone as she replied, “The Ring-tailed cat and the Mongoose,” slowly she pulled herself off the bed and walked over to Ashley, “Which certainly explains your stubborn tendencies.”

  Ashley glared back. The two stared at each other for a long moment, eyes locked, neither willing to back down.

  Then Ashley suddenly laughed and shook her head. “Go ahead, do your worst,” she spread her wings, though crouched on the floor she wasn’t particularly imposing, “You couldn’t hold a candle to Halt when it comes to torture.”

  Chris flinched, cursing Ashley’s recklessness. Her punishment would be bad enough without provoking the woman. But the Director only shook her head.

  “Oh, Ashley, whatever am I going to do with you?” Reaching down, she tapped a finger to her watch as she moved away. Chris shared a glance with Ashley as lights flashed on his friend’s collar. Despite her brave words earlier, Chris saw the shadow pass across Ashley’s face.

  “You’ve been a bad girl, Ashley,” there was
pity in the Director’s voice now, “You know I don’t enjoy this, but you leave me no choice,” reaching down, she tapped her watch again.

  Ashley shrieked and collapsed to the ground, the chain rattling as she convulsed. Her wings beat against the floor, dislodging white feathers that drifted through the air. Her legs kicked out behind her, and her back arched, her fingers clawing the tiles.

  A second later it was over, leaving Ashley gasping. Blood dripped down her chin where she’d split her lip hitting the ground face first, and it was a long time before she managed to sit upright again. Her wings hung limp behind her now, her feathers still trembling. She looked up at the Director, teeth clenched with the after-shock of pain, the curves of her breasts exposed to the harsh light.

  “As usual, the timer has been set,” the Director turned away, ignoring Ashley’s hate-filled glare, “The collar will remind you of your transgressions every thirty minutes. Enjoy your night, my dear.”

  Chris shuddered. He watched Ashley pull her knees up to her chest and lean her head back against the wall. Her wings wrapped around her again as their eyes met. Chris’s heart went out to her, but he kept his mouth closed. He had no wish to join her fate.

  How long had he lasted, before succumbing? He could hardly remember now, though he had spent days in sleepless agony. It was not just the pain, but the anticipation, the creeping dread of it that broke him. By the end, his eyes had been red from crying and lack of sleep, his mouth filled with ulcers where he’d bitten himself, and he knew he couldn’t resist any longer. The next command the Director gave, he had obeyed. And the next, and the next, until today he had killed an innocent girl.

  Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath. His ears twitched, listening to the soft tread of the Director’s feet as she crossed the room. He opened them again as she knelt beside him, unable to avoid her hazel gaze. But the hardness in her eyes was gone, the angry scowl replaced by warmth. Reaching out a slender hand, she stroked Chris’s cheek.

  Chris shuddered at the cold touch of her hands, but did not pull away.

  “Christopher, such a good boy,” she stroked his hair, as an owner would their dog, “You did well today. Very well. Perhaps you’re finally ready.”

  Chris swallowed. “Ready?” he croaked.

  Her hand trailed down past his ear and under his chin. He swallowed, feeling the cold bite of the collar around his neck. Her scent filled his nostrils, a rich, perfumed aroma of flowers. But it was artificial, sickly, overwhelming. Her hand forced his chin up, and he stared into her eyes, and saw no warmth there.

  She was so close now, her naked body almost pressed against his. Despite himself, he felt desire stirring in his chest. As she breathed, he saw the soft rise of her breasts, the pulse throbbing at her pale throat.

  He swallowed, staring at her, thinking: one blow, that’s all it would take.

  One punch, and the world would be free of her.

  But they would not be released. The second her heart stopped, the collars around their necks would trigger, and they would suffer a long, agonising death. Not quickly—she liked to remind them of that. The collars would lock to on; no one would be able to deactivate them. But the current wouldn’t kill them, at least not immediately. They might even change, might succumb to the mindless rage of the Chead, before the end came.

  Despite the consequences, he still felt tempted. He clenched his fist, willing himself to do it, to summon the courage to act. She was so bold, so confident she had crushed his will, that she had him wrapped around her little finger.

  If only it weren’t true.

  Letting out a long breath, Chris unclenched his fists, the tension flooding from him like water down a drain. A flicker of a smile tugged at the Director’s lips, and reaching up, she wiped the unspilt tear from his eye.

  “My dear Chris,” she breathed, her face close to his, “Would you like to sleep in a bed tonight?”

  Chris shuddered, feeling the cold tiles seeping through his skin, chilling his bones. He clenched his jaw shut, willing himself to ignore her.

  “Say the word, and you can join me,” she continued, then laughed gently, “I promise I don’t bite.”

  Looking up at the woman, Chris saw the suggestion in her eyes. He jumped as her hands drifted down his back, trailing across his skin, exploring the joints where his feathered wings met his back. They continued along his wings, sending jolts of sensation running up his spine.

  With an awful yearning, he looked at the bed. For weeks he had slept on this floor, freezing on the cold tiles, exposed to the relentless air conditioner. Each morning he woke to numb legs and cramping muscles. To be warm, to sleep in comfort…

  Then his eyes drifted past the Director to where Ashley sat in misery. She would spend the night screaming, in endless anticipation of the collar’s bite. The Director would not hear her screams—she slept with sleek steel earplugs, ensuring her sleep did not suffer from the agonised cries of her pets. Chris’s stomach twisted with shame at even considering the idea, and slowly he shook his head, hardly daring to look the Director in the eye.

  Her eyes narrowed as she stood. “I’m disappointed, Christopher.” She towered over him for a moment, as though weighing his fate. Finally, she moved across to the desk beside her bed and rummaged inside the drawer. A moment later she returned. Chris flinched as she tossed two steel earplugs in his lap. She nodded as Chris looked up at her.

  “Loyalty must be rewarded,” she said, her face expressionless.

  At that the Director retreated to her bed and crawled beneath the covers. A tap to her watch plunged the room into absolute darkness. Shivering, Chris lay down on the cold floor, keeping his wings wrapped tight around him. Lying on his side, he kept one beneath him, protecting him from the icy tiles, while the other covered him like a blanket. He was already beginning to regret his decision.

  Across the room, he could hear Ashley making the same preparations to sleep, though her efforts would be in vain. They did not speak. There was no need. They both knew their lot.

  Curling up, Chris clutched the earplugs in his hand, but he refused to put them in his ears. He may have given in, may have surrendered to the Director’s will, but that didn’t mean abandoning his friend. If he put them in, he would be leaving her alone in the darkness, alone with her torment. No, he would rather suffer a sleepless night with Ashley, than desert her now.

  Closing his eyes, he sought sleep.

  Twenty minutes later, Ashley’s scream echoed through the darkness. He listened to the sounds of her thrashing, even his enhanced vision unable to pierce the absolute black. After thirty seconds, Ashley finally stilled, though her desperate gasps were still audible in the silence of the room.

  “Are you okay?” Chris whispered. With her earplugs, the Director would not hear them now, but he had no wish to tempt fate waking her.

  Ashley gave a low whimper, but did not reply. Sighing, Chris closed his eyes again and sought sleep once more. He was just beginning to drift off when Ashley’s scream came again. This time he did not bother to speak.

  Reaching for the earplugs, he pressed them into his ears.

  And slept.

  Chapter 13

  The dark slope stretched out ahead of them, the long grass overgrown from years of neglect. It crunched beneath Susan’s feet as she jogged down the hill, parched-dry from drought. This was rugged country, abandoned by men as the climate shifted, driving them down towards the coast. Only the stubborn remained now, their numbers dwindling with each passing year.

  The arrival of her brethren would only quicken that process.

  So far, the Chead had kept to these far-out pastures, close to the shelter of the mountains and the network of tunnels criss-crossing the plains. They were safe here, confident in their power, untouchable by the foolish humans.

  Yet it was not enough. There was little food in this country, and as their numbers grew they would need to spread into the lowlands, where the human population numbered in the thousands ra
ther than hundreds. When that time came, they would need a plan to deal with humanity’s armies.

  Moving down the hill, Susan looked around. The night was alive with the movement of the Chead. They had travelled long miles since their last raid, and even Susan was beginning to flag. Her belly weighed her down, the new life inside draining her strength, though she refused to give in to her weakness.

  Hecate ran beside her, his sweet scent feeding strength to her failing legs. Despite his years in captivity, he was tireless, his long strides carrying him effortlessly across the rolling hills. Somewhere behind them, Talisa and her honour guard brought up the rear of the pack. Ahead, the latest batch of women who had chosen life lurched along. Some ran with the mindless strength of the Chead, while others stumbled, their consciousness still at war with the change.

  Watching the women, Susan wondered how long it would take for the last to succumb, to release the final treacherous emotions of humanity, and embrace the Chead. How long had it taken her? Memories of that time were a blur now, like trying to glimpse a familiar face through water. But as she sucked in a breath of fresh air, the image seemed to crystallise, and she saw a woman’s face staring back at her, blue eyes wide with fear.

  She staggered midstride and started to fall. Before she could strike the ground, Hecate’s arm shot out to steady her. She clung to his wrist and looked up at him. His grey eyes flashed in the moonlight, and for an instant a remembered terror plunged her heart into her stomach.

  Then the soft scent of her mate blanketed her, and it all fell away.

  Pulling her up, Hecate nodded to the way ahead. “Come. We are almost…there.”

  Susan smiled back, and using Hecate’s arm, regained her feet. Most of the Chead were past them now, and the grass around them had been pressed flat against the ground. Above, the moon was bright in the sky, and a thousand stars stretched from the mountains to the distant horizon, untouched by the lights of humanity. The wind drifted past where they stood near the top of the hill, and down towards their brethren Chead.