Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
But now as I stare at the empty page, I can’t seem to pull anything from my mind. Not data, not diagrams. Instead of graphs or findings, my pencil begins to scratch against the page with a recounting of Gregor’s dungeon. Of the people who lived and died in it with me. Of my days spent dreading the sight of the vampires, of Whitbine.
On and on I write. My hand cramps. Still, I write. My head aches, the pain expanding past the analgesic effect of the ibuprofen. I ignore it, the words flowing from me. It’s a purge. A regurgitation of horror. And still, I write.
I’ve filled half the journal by the time I can’t feel my fingers. My words turn into jumbles of botched letters. Finally, I stop. The pain in my head has grown so bad that my vision is blurry. I know I’m missing chunks of time, of information. But what I remember now lives in this book. It’s all I have. Cradling it close, I hold onto it like a mother with a small child. It’s everything to me, my only possession. A splinter of myself embedded inside it, keeping my fractured thoughts alive for a little longer. Just a little longer.
9
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
April 22, Year 1, Emergence Era
The lab feels less safe now. There’s too much going on, too many factions. The Saints, the vampires, even the CDC—I feel like I’m at odds with everyone when all I wanted to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is end this fucking plague and save lives. Now that Gage is gone, that’s one less layer of protection. And with the way Valen’s been acting, I don’t know if I can count on him to help me or hurt me.
“Still skulking about?” Gorsky peeks his head into my room. “You’ve been in here for days. I heard you had quite the run-in with Master.” He looks me up and down.
“Get out.” I yank my blankets up to my chin.
He rolls his eyes. “Not my type. Get over yourself.”
“Why are you even here? Just go away.” I’ve been isolating myself. Ever since Valen … I don’t want to think about it. I clench my eyes shut against the memory of his fangs in my throat. It’s been a rough week. And then my period was particularly painful—especially after Melody added that bit about being able to smell my blood. A chill rolls down my spine.
“The master finally fed from you, then?” he asks it airily, but I can feel the anticipation in his tone. He runs a hand over his close-cropped hair.
“Is that why you’re here?” I turn away from him, my gaze on the stone window. “Just go away.”
“Melody is quite good at draining blood. I’m sure you didn’t feel a thing. I never complain, of course. Unlike you, I know my place. I’m here to serve.”
“What are you on about?” I refuse to look at him.
“She’s gentle. That’s all I’m saying. I barely feel the stick when she takes from me. Master likes his blood fresh, and I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Melody draws your blood for Valen?” I’m confused enough that I meet his gaze again. “He doesn’t bite you?”
His lips press into a thin line as his halfway-friendly mask drops. A glare replaces it. “He drank from you directly?” It’s more an accusation than a question.
Unbidden, my fingers ghost along my neck.
His nostrils flare, an explosive rage roaring out of him. “You fucking slut!”
“What?” I drop my hand beneath the blanket and pull my knees in tight.
“He drank from you? He touched you?” Spittle flies from his lips.
“I don’t know what—”
“Shut up!” he yells.
I flinch back, my heart thumping a warning against my ribs. Gorsky has never struck me as particularly reasonable, but right now he looks deranged. He looks like he wants to rip my throat out himself.
“He’s mine,” he hisses. “I am his first blood consort. I provide for him. You’re only here until he gets whatever information from you he needs. After that, he’ll gut you and leave you for dead.”
“You’ve made that clear.” I keep my voice steady despite my very real fear he might try to hurt me. Then again, he hasn’t crossed my threshold. Not since Valen told him my room is off limits. “You can go now.”
Seething, he stares at me for long, tense moments. “Don’t let me catch you outside this fucking room, bitch.”
“I don’t think Valen would like you threatening his prize human.” I don’t know where this bit of bravado has come from, but I indulge it.
His face turns even redder, his fingernails digging into the doorframe. “You’re dead.”
“I’ve been dead for a long time.” I return his glare. “This is nothing.”
Murder in his eyes, he finally backs away and disappears down the hall. With shaking legs, I hurry to the door and slam it shut. For the hundredth time, I wish there was a lock, some way to ensure he—and anyone else—can’t get in. But there’s nothing, and the furniture is far beyond my ability to move on my own. I can’t bar the door. I can only hope Valen’s command that Gorsky stay out will be enough.