Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(136)

A troll was looming over her. Blood-spattered, fanged, horrible, red flames flickering in the empty black sockets of his eyes.

Someone smacked her face. She blinked startled tears out of her eyes. The face was handsome, smiling, human, now, but the bloody coat he wore was the same. “I’m so glad you’ve woken up,” he said.

Liv tried to lift her aching head. Memories drifted back. The clinic. Her mother’s taunting voice. The needle. The monster. She peered around. “Where’s T-Rex?” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

The man looked blank. “You mean Gordon? He’ll be back. Gordon lives for my experiments. I let him participate, and in return, he cleans up my messes. It’s a perfect symbiotic relationship.”

“How did he know…where I was?”

“He’s been monitoring your parents,” the guy explained. “Gordon planted bugs in your mother’s purses. We were sure you’d be foolish enough to contact them. They made our work so easy, reeling you in like that. But I won’t wait for Gordon, though. I’m too eager to proceed. He can play with the other girl later. That should content him.”

Other girl? Liv heard a whimpering sound. She craned her neck, saw the slender form huddled on the floor at the far end of the room.

She turned back to the man. “Proceed with what?”

The man rubbed his hands together. “With the experiments, of course,” he said, his voice gleeful. “On your lover. I’m so excited.”

“Sean?” She looked around wildly, pulling against the straps.

“Hey, my love. This shithead is Osterman. The guy who offed Kev.” The voice came from behind her. She craned back, looked at him upside down. He was strapped into a chair, streaming with blood.

“Oh, Sean,” she whispered. “Sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes were full of grief and pain. “Liv? Baby? Whatever happens now? I love you. Remember that.”

The guy he’d called Osterman laughed. “I will be curious to see if she manages to remember it, after what you are about to do to her.”

He grabbed a rolling cart piled with objects, and pulled it to the gurney. “Instruments of torture, gleaned from my kitchen and garage. Pliers,” he displayed each item, “a scalpel, a handsaw, a nut-cracker for fingers, a tire iron for breaking the larger bones, and this.” He held up a bronze device that she didn’t recognize until he flipped a switch. Blue flame hissed out of the curved pipe. “A blowtorch,” he said proudly.

She started to shake. Thought of Tam’s ring. If all else fails, you can open a vein with it. Well and good, if your hands were fastened together. Hers were strapped on either side of her. The worst she could do would be to stab a hole in the pad of her thumb.

Osterman peered into Sean’s eyes. “Are you still able to speak?”

Sean’s mouth worked. “Go f*ck yourself.” The words were slurred.

Osterman adjusted the knobs on Sean’s helmet. He turned Liv’s gurney around. “So you can watch,” he said, as if conferring a treat.

Sean’s face stiffened into a mask. Osterman stared, licking his lips. “He’s mine. I’m command central of his brain. Isn’t it incredible?”

“You sick f*ck,” Liv whispered.

He giggled. “Sean, you will feel an impulse to hold up a certain number of fingers.” He leaned down, and whispered into Liv’s ear as if they were playing a party game. “I’ll tell him three. This is a direct impulse, from my brain to his hand. Watch carefully!”

Sean’s hand twitched, clenched. The plastic tubing leading into the needle twisted around his wrist. He held up three shaking fingers.

“Very good,” Osterman said.

Sean’s hand kept moving. His index and fourth finger trembled, and curled down, leaving his middle finger sticking straight up.

Liv wanted to cheer at his desperate defiance. God, she loved him.

Osterman turned to the IV rack, adjusted the drip. “Most subjects would be in convulsions at this point. We’ll try this again, Sean.”

Sean’s hand shook. Tears trickled from his eyes. A thread of blood ran out of his nose. Liv bit her lip, trying not to whimper.

“You learn more about the choreography of mental domination by working with the strong ones,” he said smugly. “It’s more complicated than you might think. But I’ve been practicing for decades.”

Liv tried to moisten her cracked lips. “Why do you hate him?”

Osterman looked surprised. “Oh, but. I don’t hate any of my test subjects. I just…happen to them. Like a stroke. If I want results which translate into rapid advances in medical treatments, and defense applications that contribute directly to the security of my nation, a price must be paid. And I sincerely believe the price is worth it.”

“But you’re not the one paying it,” Liv pointed out.

Osterman blinked, and cleared his throat. “Ah. Well. Point taken. However, you can’t get out of being tortured to death by your lover. Besides, I have a meeting later, and I’ll need time to clean up. Let’s see how Mr. McCloud is coming along.”

Liv looked, and cried out involuntarily. Sean’s nose bled from both sides now. His mouth and jaw were a gleaming crimson mask.

“Observe, if you will.” Osterman had a lecturing, professorial tone as he unbuckled the straps that held Sean’s arms. “He can’t move a muscle, other than breathing, swallowing and suchlike, unless the impulse comes from me. Watch this.” He picked up the tire iron.