A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 24: Blue Boy's Singsong

I shut my eyes before the blade penetrates his chest, unaware of the dead silence that passes in doing so. I hear my heartbeat inside my own head. "Fascinating," Setrákus says.

Henri's... alive. He's okay! The dagger... it hovers a mere inch away from his chest, suspended in the air! He's untouched, unharmed, and while I'm surprised and confused, I'm happier than I've been in days. But as soon as I see its magical levitation, it falls to the floor with a clang.

"I knew it," Henri murmurs, smiling.

"Did—Did I do that?"

"Indeed," the Mogadorian Leader notes. He stares at me for a long while, speechless, I think. I swallow. "Obviously there is more to you than I initially thought," he proclaims.

"I—I don't even know what I did."

He raises a hand. "We'll find out together," he says, dismissively. "Soon."

***

There's a bright fluorescent light staring down on me, making it difficult to focus. I'm lying on a cold table; that much is obvious. My arms and legs are tied down; I can't move them no matter how hard I try. "You're awake," says a voice, the same gruesome voice I heard last, and that sends panic sweeping through me as deadly as ocean waves. "Good. How do you feel?"

He nears my side in a lab coat and looks down on me with what looks like mild gratification. It's a bland question, and I don't think there's any reason to me answering at all, but with the attitude of a caged bull, I do. "Heavy," I slur. "What did you do to me?"

Setrákus Ra doesn't answer, just places a hand on my forehead like he's checking me for a fever, and moves to my stomach, then presses down. I think I might throw up; it's like something alive is crawling inside me. He must see this because he takes his hand away, turns his back, and I hear him tinkering with something; instruments, beakers, syringes, whatever. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asks, somewhat absentmindedly.

Despite my disappointment in not receiving an answer to my question, for some reason, I take his into consideration. "I remember... it's dark."

"Good." he goes on, distractedly. He won't even look at me. I don't think he's paying attention to me at all. I squirm, my left leg jostling in the discomfort like it's trying to gain some ounce of feeling or momentum. "What else?"

"It tickles," I mutter.

"What does?"

"Needles," I spit, and at that, he turns to me, surprised, I think. "It stings." My breath is hot and heavy, picking up pace. "Ah, it burns!"

"Calm down, Emily," he tells me, but that only upsets me more. It's uncomfortable; he has no idea how uncomfortable it is! I want out! "It was a dream."

But I shake my head, not believing that because it felt so... real. It was scary. "No," I say. "No. He was there. You—You did something."

The man in the coat stiffens, freezing momentarily before fumbling for some device. "Research log," he says, "I suspect the Subject has retained information on procedures done while sedated. Look into this and up the dosage for future testing." I'm not sure what he means by 'Subject.' He fumbles with the device—it clicks—then returns to my side.

Yes. He's the same person I remember being prodded by, but... I haven't actually seen him prodding me. It's strange, almost like it was a dream, but I don't think it was. I just know what it feels like. I don't think it was so long ago either...

There's a prick at my forearm where he prepares another needle for insertion, and I flinch. "Whoa, what is that?!"

He barely reacts. "It's a small dose of promethazine," he says. "It will keep you relaxed—while I figure out what's wrong with you."