These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(39)

I rushed over, not knowing what to do, desperately trying to form a plan. The streets were empty—no one to call. Fear for the obnoxious man clouded my head. Could Mr. Braddock’s power really help him defeat a man strong enough to rip a lamppost from the ground? All it would take is one small mistake, and Claude could kill him with a single blow.

He needed help.

My sights sharpened on a broken stone in a nearby pile of debris. I darted for it, lifted the weight, and hurled it with miraculous accuracy straight at Claude. It soared through the air, thickly thumped his head, and dropped to the ground. Claude simply looked over his shoulder at me and scratched his head, then turned back to Mr. Braddock.

We needed to run.

“I keep trying to explain the matter, and you keep acting very rudely,” Dr. Beck’s voice crept in from behind me.

My dizziness immediately turned into a sharp-edged alertness, and I spun around with a desperate attack that he stopped without hesitation, lightly pushing me away. “What is wrong with you?” I screamed. “What are you doing with her?”

“Your sister is now part of my research that will change the world. There’s something in her, on a cellular level, that accelerates and heightens the human body’s regenerative properties.”

The grunts, the scuffling, the thunderous crashes behind me continually distracted me from the madman’s quiet voice. I feared each attack would be the last, but each one also meant Mr. Braddock was still on his feet.

“It’s a result of a jump in evolution . . . a process called saltation—”

“I know what it is!” I growled, flinching as another attack seemed to shake the street. But Mr. Braddock apparently took that as his cue. Like a bull, he charged straight at Claude, entering the dangerous range of his weapon, daring him to attack again and end the fight.

“Oh, he told you? Splendid. Then you understand the amazing possibilities of isolating this ability of hers. Think of the advances. Any disease curable, any injury reparable.”

Swinging low, Claude and his lamppost tore through the bridge’s wooden planks, just missing Mr. Braddock, who jumped over the first slash and slid under the hasty second with the help of the slick cobblestone street.

“If you’re so altruistic,” I snarled, “why did you kidnap her? She would have gladly helped you.”

Mr. Braddock landed right at Claude’s feet, vulnerable, and the giant seized the chance, stomping his boot straight down.

“I cannot be restricted in my experiments,” Dr. Beck sighed.

With a quick roll, Mr. Braddock barely escaped the attack, while Claude found his foot lodged deep in the stone rubble.

“I cannot deal with hesitation, guilt, or caution if I am investigating something so important.”

Mr. Braddock leaped to his feet and tried to seize the giant from behind, but Claude, desperate to escape, took a leap forward himself—his foot tearing apart the road—and dodged the grab.

“I must have the freedom to do whatever my research requires.”

Claude landed at the edge of the bridge and quickly spun around, once again keeping Mr. Braddock at bay with the lamppost. Breathing heavily, they both circled each other at a distance, ending up back where they started, locked in another stalemate. How much longer could Mr. Braddock keep this up?

“The greater good is all that matters.”

My stomach flipped. This scientist was rationalizing the pain and suffering he would inflict on Rose for his success.

“You’re mad,” I got out. “You’re all stark raving mad. She’s just a girl.”

“There are thousands of people out there every day, forced to watch their sisters and daughters die of diseases. And they’re saying the same thing.”

I turned to glare at Dr. Beck. “When I tell the police of this—”

“They will do nothing,” he interrupted, looking exasperated. “I have plenty of persuasive friends who are highly invested in my research. Not that it matters, as neither of you are leaving here alive anyway.”

The words sliced right through me—his matter-of-fact tone, as if our death were an inevitability I was too foolish to realize.

I tightened my fists and took a deep breath, holding back my tears of frustration. “Th-then what are you waiting for?”

He didn’t deign to respond. Instead, he just watched as Mr. Braddock dodged and Claude advanced, winding the lamppost back for another swing, digging his foot into the broken ground below him, and aiming a powerful and unexpected kick right in Mr. Braddock’s direction.

It happened in the blink of an eye. The cobblestone debris hit Mr. Braddock’s face and sent him tumbling down, his forehead smacking the wooden bridge as he landed. With the slightest hint of satisfaction, Claude balanced the lamppost on his shoulder and made his way across the bridge to Mr. Braddock. Get up, get up, get up, I pleaded.

He didn’t.

Claude raised the lamppost high above his head for one last blow, his grip crunching into the metal post.

“Wait!” The cry ripped itself from my chest. “Take me!”

Silence. Dr. Beck looked at me, incredulous. “I’m sorry?”

“I can heal, too! Please, just call your other man back and take me in Rose’s place.”

Dr. Beck narrowed his eyes skeptically as though I were the insane one. Without a word, he turned and headed for Claude and Mr. Braddock.