“Dr. Moore. Thank you for coming.” That was Greer, stepping away from forcing breakfast down Jonas and hurrying to meet her. “Have you received the latest numbers?”
“I have, Dr. Fallon.” Moore gave her a tight smile. “Progress seems to be getting away from us.”
“We’ve reduced the transplant ratios, yes. The manifestation mortalities were rising too quickly.”
Greer clasped her hands behind her back and joined Moore on her slow parade across the room. “The new cell batches are far superior, thanks to our friends here.”
“It’s good to see them both looking well. But you wanted some adjustments?” Moore’s smile was nothing less than demonic as she caught Dane watching her.
“For this one, at least.” Greer stopped at Dane’s cage and patted the bars fondly. “He’s been running a fever. I’m afraid we collared him too early. Also, I’d like to see his teeth returned to a more feral state.
He’ll thrive if I can put him on a raw diet.”
“And the other?” Moore glanced over at Jonas’s limp form.
“He’s in good health, for his condition,” Greer said, frowning. “We’re keeping him sedated, and it’s safer if we tube-feed him. You were correct about his contributions. We should cultivate a hybrid of these two to maintain for long-term supplies. It’s a pity the cell cultures don’t maintain efficiency in a production matrix.”
“Magic can’t be nurtured that way.” Lourdes was barely audible. She moved past Moore, like she was sleepwalking, and stopped in front of Jonas’s cage.
“Yet.” The weather mage looked contemptuous. “It’ll come.”
Moore took a clipboard from Greer and signed several places on a form. “Sedate him, and we’ll take care of that healing.”
“Of course.”
Dane caught movement off to the side. He already knew where “the stick” was. It was a rod that held a hypodermic needle in the end and allowed them to inject him without reaching into the cage. He shifted into the back corner next to Jonas, where there was too little room between the cages for them to reach him.
“You know what you need to do,” Greer said, coming over to the cage with the stick in her hand. The needle on it was a good two inches long and thick as hell. “You need to get better and you need those nice teeth so you can eat your dinner. When you’re asleep, Dr. Moore will let you heal. Okay?” She gave him a bright smile as she slid the stick through the bars.
Dane watched the needle close in, watched her tense in anticipation of ramming it into him. He grabbed it out of her hands, snapped it, and lunged at her with what was left. He would have had her too, except that Moore snatched her back and away from him.
“You can’t treat them like they’re human,” Moore said icily. “And you can’t treat them like they’re animals. They’re born rabid. Get me another injector.”
“You need to stop that,” Greer said to him, looking wounded. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck, and he wanted to bite it out and swallow it while it was still twitching. “I’m trying to make you feel better.”
“Here, Dr. Moore.” That was the grumbling assistant who had brought Jonas’s slop. He had a second stick that he was fitting with another syringe.
“I’ll do it.” Lourdes’s voice was faint, but her eyes—fixed on Dane—were brighter than he had ever seen. She dropped her gaze as she turned, her body language soft and submissive. “Please?” She held her hand out for the stick.
“Go ahead, dear.” Moore looked positively proud. “You’ve handled him before.”
“He and I have an understanding,” Lourdes said to Greer. “Whether he likes it or not.”
“We do, don’t we?” she added so only Dane could hear.
“Touch me with that thing and we’ll both understand what your blood tastes like,” Dane snarled. Her mind on his made him want to claw at his head.
“Be my guest.” Greer stepped well back, irritation coming off her in waves.
“We’ve been through this before.” Lourdes stepped closer to him. “If you let me do this,” Dane felt as much as heard, “I promise you will be glad of it. But pain will follow, and you cannot let them see that you are not sleeping.” She slid the stick between the bars.
Dane knew what it was to have her separate him from his will, and it wasn’t happening. His thoughts were clear and his muscles answered his commands to flex. “What do you want for this?”
“Only what you do.”
Lourdes was slight, but she had the reflexes of a cat. The needle came at him like a snake, yet not so fast that Dane didn’t feel a splash of anesthetic on his skin before the point bit in. The pain was half what it had been last time, and he twisted, feigning the agony he’d felt before.
“You have to make them respect you,” Lourdes said, walking away.
The world swam and went gray. Dane slumped down with his head against the cage bars. Beyond the blurred clumps of his lashes, he could see that Moore held something in the palm of her hand. An artifact
with a blue light shining from it like an eye. She turned it toward him and murmured a saying. It made no sense to Dane, but he tried to remember it.
His magic crept back in like the rush of blood to a sleeping limb, and it took everything he had not to scream. Still, he brought his will down with all the experience of centuries, forcing himself to heal from the inside out. Nerves, senses, flesh. His blood turned toxic with dying bacteria, his heart faltered, his sight went dark; finally, his pain and the drugs were swept away as though by a single motion of a hand.
Dane’s back ached with the pressure of his wings yearning to spread. Fur crawled under his skin and his spine twisted as it grew too long for his body. The beast in him had to wait. It had waited for decades to be free until Ezqel had removed the curse and fixed his magic, it could wait again.
The pleasure of being whole made it impossible for him to hear what Moore said next. It felt like she had executed him with the word. The sense of ending was worse than the death he’d died at Jonas’s hands, because his body was still breathing and he was still trapped in this cage. Still failing. He was empty and limp, his heart struggling once more to keep his body alive without magic.
They were talking outside his cage, and Dane tried to make himself focus through the fear brought on by losing his magic. He wasn’t used to being afraid.
“I’d like to preserve a hybrid instead of keeping this one.” That was Greer. She didn’t like Jonas. She was his kind of girl. “We were afraid his offspring would be erratic this time, and we were right. They don’t have his malleability.”
“His ability to recover is unparalleled,” Moore said. “I’m loath to lose that. The others can keep them in line.”
“Perhaps the problem is with his marrow, the way he is now.” Lourdes’s voice was almost pained.
“I’m sure there must be severe errors when he is in the midst of mass regeneration.”
“You think it would improve if we healed him completely?” Greer seemed interested.
“She’s simply being sentimental.” Moore laughed at the girl. “I’m surprised that you’re so fond of the dog, Lourdes.”
“I don’t want him back,” Lourdes snapped. “If I did, I’d be pushing for you to replace him, or telling you he’s useless. I’m telling you to keep him. But stop making fodder for the incinerator just because you like seeing him in pieces.”
“Your notes suggest that his progenitors were excessively obedient,” Greer said. “Now we can’t keep them in line. She has a point. We don’t fully understand the alterations in the body during regeneration. His DNA may carry large defects or it may be susceptible to the influences of the host body.”