Whisper (Whisper #1)(84)

Dread wells up within me, and I know I have to get out of here. I can’t stay in this Karoel-lined room for another second watching my friends fall victim to a psychopath.

Just as I find the nerve to run, to attempt to get past the Karoel and Speak us all to safety, a stirring in the air prickles my skin in warning, prompting me to spin around. But I’m too slow to react as Vanik, having snuck up behind me, crashes the drill down onto my skull.

Pain explodes from behind my eyes and I crumple into a heap at his feet, unconscious before I hit the ground.

*

Wake up, Lyss. You have to wake up.

I’m in a dream. I know I am because I’m standing on a cloud with rainbows streaming all around me, shining like glitter in the sunshine.

But that’s only one reason I know I’m dreaming. The other is that Kael is here with me.

Smith projected me here, he tells me. We don’t have long.

Part of me considers how amazing it is that Smith can project into my unconscious mind, but the other part of me doesn’t have the energy to care much at the moment.

Lyss, you have to wake up, Kael says again.

I don’t want to, I tell him. I want to stay here. It’s peaceful. And I’m tired.

I know you are, princess, he says, closing the distance between our dream selves and placing his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently. Help is on the way, but you need to wake up, and no matter what, you have to stay awake. It’s very, very important.

I shake my head, and the rainbows blur around me. I don’t know if I can.

You can, he tells me, his midnight eyes trapping mine. You can, and you must. We’ll get you out, but you have to help us. Just stay awake.

Everything hurts, Kael.

I know it does, he whispers. Just hold on a little longer, princess. But now you have to WAKE UP!

*

I jolt awake, groaning as I come around fully. The pain I felt upon passing out seems but a shadow of the agony currently tearing through my body. I struggle to open my eyes and succeed only after a few attempts. I feel more tired than I’ve ever felt in my life. But that doesn’t make sense. Not until I can finally lift my lashes and see the cause of my exhausted state.

Blood.

Bags and bags of blood.

All of it mine, and still more being drawn from my veins.

I gurgle in horror and try to sit up, but something holds me down. I’m shackled to the examination table at my neck, my hands and my ankles. Panic wells up within me, and adrenaline overrides exhaustion. I begin to wrestle against my constraints, but I stop almost immediately when a searing agony shoots from two points on my lower back, one in the center, one toward the side.

I break out in a cold sweat because I know — I know — what that means: that Vanik has already completed his nightmarish procedures on me and extracted my fluid samples. I feel so violated that I have to swallow back my dinner as it tries to make a reappearance. And then, heedless of the pain, I begin to wrestle anew.

Mindless with terror, I let minutes pass before I realize this is a useless battle — and I have other ways to fight for my escape.

With tears of fear and exhaustion in my eyes, I concentrate harder than I ever have in my life as I focus on my restraints and croak out, “Release!”

Nothing happens. No light flashes. The bindings don’t loosen their hold.

“Release!” I cry again. “Release me! Let go!” I hiccup through a sob and whisper out a tremulous, “Please, let me go.”

It’s no use. With the Karoel surrounding me, I may as well be mute.

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” Vanik says.

I recoil as he moves into my line of sight.

“You don’t have enough energy to Speak. And in attempting to prove me wrong, you’ll only tire yourself out faster.”

I can’t imagine being more exhausted than I already am, but his words ring true as my body weakens more and more from the excess blood loss and my head injury. It’s worse, so much worse than I felt after the paintball skirmish. I can barely string a single thought together, let alone concentrate enough to Speak. Even if the walls weren’t limiting my power, I’d still be in a world of trouble. But just because I can’t use my ability doesn’t mean I’m ready to roll over.

“You sick bas —”

“Careful, now, Six-Eight-Four,” Vanik interrupts, “or my hand may just … slip.”

I draw in a ragged breath when I see him holding a scalpel in one hand — and a razorblade in the other.

“It’s a shame to get rid of this lovely hair of yours, but it’ll only be in the way,” he murmurs, resting both blades on a metallic tray lined with all kinds of other instruments. “I’ll need a clear point of access to extract the required tissue. A mistake could be catastrophic, at this point. But don’t worry — as long as you remain still, the procedure should be minimal risk.”

My entire body quakes. I don’t know what “minimal risk” means, but I’m certain it’s much more dangerous than Vanik is letting on.

He turns fully toward me and leans over until his rancid breath is in my face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day, Alyssa Scott. Ever since you arrived at Lengard, you were kept from me. You were protected from me.” He spits the word like it’s an offense.

“You tortured me,” I rasp out, alarmed by how weak my voice sounds.