Spectacle (Menagerie #2)(90)

The handler pressed a button on his remote, and Gallagher made a stunned choking sound. He fell to the floor with a heavy thud just as the broken end of the metal bed frame punctured Pagano’s chest like a pencil through a sheet of paper, driving him backward until he hit the wall.

Pagano coughed up blood. Then he slid down the wall and fell over sideways, staring sightlessly at the doorway.

“No!” I sank onto my knees next to Gallagher. His legs were shaking, his heels crashing into the floor over and over; he was having a seizure. “Gallagher! What can I do?”

His eyes rolled back and his teeth clacked together.

“Get the remote!” Claudio growled, fighting his restraints in a vain attempt to get out of the bed. “It’s still shocking him!”

I scrambled across the floor and pulled the remote control from Pagano’s limp hand, silently apologizing for his bloody death, after the relative kindness he’d shown me. The remote had a smart screen, with half a dozen “quick touch” options. An icon at the bottom of the display read End Voltage.

I pressed it three times before I was sure the device had accepted my command.

Gallagher went still. I crawled back to him with the remote control in hand. His eyes were closed. “Gallagher.” I bent low to speak into his ear. “Gallagher. Please wake up! We have to move.” We weren’t going to get a better chance to escape, and we had no choice.

He’d killed a handler.

If Vandekamp caught us, he would have Gallagher killed slowly, brutally in the arena. In front of a crowd. And he’d make me watch.

“Is he okay?” Claudio asked, still straining for a better view.

“I don’t—”

Gallagher’s eyelids twitched. Then they opened. He blinked, and his gaze focused on me. “Delilah. Are you—” He sat up with no sign of vertigo, and when he saw Pagano’s corpse, he exhaled. “I got him.”

“He didn’t hurt me, Gallagher.”

“He wasn’t...?” His gaze fell to my stomach.

“No!”

Gallagher shrugged. “Pagano was keeping you locked up. That made him our enemy.” And for him, it was truly that simple.

He pushed himself to his feet, then reached down to help me up. “We’re leaving.”

“Okay,” I said, and he looked surprised that I wasn’t arguing. “But we can’t leave all the others.”

“We won’t.” Gallagher turned to Claudio. “Can you walk?”

The werewolf’s cuffs rattled when he shrugged. “Not quickly.”

“Okay, then you’ll stay here—stay safe—until we come back for you.” Gallagher glanced at me. “You figure out the remote. I’ll find the keys. It won’t be long before the nurse comes in to check my stitches.” He lifted his arm, and I saw that a long gash stretching toward his elbow had popped three stitches and begun to bleed. Which was why they’d brought him to the infirmary.

While Gallagher dug in Pagano’s pockets, I went through the remote control’s menus and functions, careful not to press anything that might hurt any of us. “Okay,” I said, when I’d found what seemed to be the home menu. “There’s an option that will remove all restrictions. I’m going to try that, but anyone else with a remote will still be able to reprogram them.”

“Not for long.” Gallagher unlocked his cuffs and dropped them into a trash can against one wall. Next he unlocked one of Claudio’s cuffs and handed him the key, then covered the unlocked hand with the white sheet. “Stay put until we come for you, or until we give the all clear. Then you can unlock the rest of the cuffs.”

Claudio nodded.

“Okay.” Gallagher turned to me. “Remove my restrictions.”

I aimed the remote at him, and a new line appeared on the screen, confirming that whatever command I issued would take effect on “Gallagher. Collar number 47924.” I pressed the button marked Remove All Restrictions.

The remote asked me to confirm my command, and I pressed the button again.

Gallaher’s collar flashed red.

“Okay, I think we’re good. But maybe we should test it.”

“There’s no time.” He turned to the cabinet against one wall and gave the locked drawer a hard pull. The lock gave and the drawer slid open. Gallagher rifled through the contents until he came up with a slim pair of scissors with long handles. “Okay, I need you to slide these between the collar and my skin, then carefully snip the metal...spine...things.”

I held the scissors up to the light to examine them. “These are suture scissors. They’re made to cut thread, not metal.”

“They’re the only set slim enough to fit. And these spines are very thin.”

“But for all we know, that could kill you.”

“That’s why we’re not trying it out on you.”

“Try it on me,” Claudio said.

“No!” I insisted. “Genni needs you.”

“I’m doing this for Genevieve. Just promise you’ll get her out of here. No matter what.”

“We promise.” Gallagher grabbed the scissors from me and helped Claudio sit up, which was only possible because we’d freed one of his hands. He examined the werewolf’s collar. “Remove the restrictions.”