Spectacle (Menagerie #2)(82)

    For Immediate Release

    Dr. Willem Vandekamp has been granted the world’s first patent for a hormonal suppression technique designed to prevent the metamorphosis of cryptid hybrid shifters...

    —from a 2005 press release by the United States Patent and Trademark Office





Delilah

“No.” My vision swam, warping Vandekamp’s office furniture until I could have been looking into the mirror maze at the menagerie. “No. Gallagher would never sacrifice his honor like that, and I wouldn’t either. We wouldn’t... He couldn’t. He swore to protect...”

Understanding hit me like a punch to the gut. “That’s what he was doing, wasn’t he? Protecting me?”

Tabitha shrugged. “My understanding is that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.”

Gallagher. My sworn champion and best friend, who chafed at the misconception that our relationship was based on anything as trivial and fleeting as physical attraction, might be the father of a baby neither of us ever meant to have. A child that could be human or fear dearg or some unprecedented combination of the two.

“I don’t...” I closed my eyes, trying to block the Vandekamps out. I wanted nothing else in the world but to be alone. To process my shock and trauma away from cruel mouths and prying eyes.

“We’ll know how to proceed in a month,” Tabitha said in a tone that fell horrifically short of the comfort she obviously thought she was providing. Protecting my baby in case it was human didn’t absolve her of her willingness to kill that same child if Gallagher turned out to be the father.

I opened my eyes, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to claw their eyes out and spit on their corpses, and how little help the furiae would be in that endeavor.

“I want the test. Now.” I hadn’t even known what I was going to say until the words were out, and I didn’t realize I meant them until I heard them. “The amniocentesis.”

“But there’s a risk for the baby,” Tabitha protested.

“Life is a risk for this baby.”

“What’s the biggest risk from amniocentesis? Miscarriage?” Vandekamp asked. Tabitha nodded. “What’s the risk? Give me the numbers.”

“Not quite a one percent chance.”

“And probably less, under ideal circumstances, which we can easily provide,” he said. “I want to know now. Call Dr. Grantham and schedule the test for tomorrow.” Before she could argue further, he twisted to push a button on his desk phone. “Send Pagano back in.”

My guard stepped into the office behind me and closed the door.

“Pagano, are you married?” Vandekamp asked. “Have kids?”

“No, sir.”

“Excellent. You are now assigned to Delilah exclusively, so we’re going to need you here around the clock until further notice. My assistant will set up a room for you and see that your salary is doubled. Any objection?”

Pagano hesitated, but just for a moment. “No, sir.”

“Take her back to her cell,” Vandekamp ordered. “She’ll be seeing Dr. Grantham tomorrow, and you are not to tell him about Dr. Hill. Nor will you tell anyone else about the pregnancy. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir,” Pagano said from behind me. “Any change to her diet or exercise program?”

“No. Keep everything as is, and notify me personally of any change at all in her condition or health. Dismissed.”

Pagano pulled me up by one arm.

“Send Gallagher to me,” I said, as he escorted me out of the room. “I need to talk to him.”

Vandekamp didn’t reply, but I could feel his gaze following me until we turned the corner out of sight.

*

“You knew about Gallagher, didn’t you?” I demanded as Pagano led me through the topiary. The sun still rode high in the sky, though it felt like I’d spent forever in Vandekamp’s office, watching while what little life I still had was ripped apart at the seams. “That’s what you didn’t want to tell me?” What no one, evidently, wanted to tell me.

“I wasn’t there. I just heard about it.”

And he couldn’t have been the only one.

A strange sound caught in my throat when I tried to swallow a sob. I stopped walking, but Pagano didn’t reach for me.

“You weren’t alone. That kind of engagement takes a toll on the cryptids, which is why the boss charges so much for them.”

“He charges a lot because he likes money.” I walked on, and Pagano matched me step by step without touching me, even though he wore gloves.

“So, Dr. Hill?”

“What about him?” I stared at the cold, rough sidewalk as we stepped onto it, headed down a curving path toward the isolated building where my cell was.

“Will he survive?”

“Rommily says he won’t.” I shrugged. “They don’t typically give me updates on those who draw the furiae’s wrath, but I’m guessing it won’t do them any good to stuff his guts back in and sew him shut unless they figure out how to stop him from slicing himself open again.”

Pagano seemed to think about that in silence until we got to my building. “How does it work?” he asked as he pulled the door open. “I mean how do you decide who...deserves it?”