Chapter seven

592 16 2
                                        

When I awoke, I was in a room I had never seen before. It was warm and welcoming, unlike anything I was used to. It was perfectly clean and decorated like I imagined a grandmother would design a room, with light blue walls and pure white curtains flowing down to the floor allowing a faint glow of sunlight through lighting the room. I sank into the covers on the soft bed while I slept, the same covers that kept my aching body pinned down in the warmth.

I wondered where I was, the bandages still mostly covering my vision as I looked around the room. I wondered how I had gotten there.

It had been long enough that my eyes were usable, but how long that was with all the upgrades I had was a mystery.

The door handle jiggled as it opened slowly, letting in a stream of light that hurt my eyes. "Little one?" The kind voice from the closet called quietly, "Are you awake?"

Her footsteps padded gently on the floor as she crossed over to the bed where I lay. The bed dipped as she sat next to me, her kind grey eyes met my poorly covered ones. She gave me a small smile as she took off the loose cloth and pressed a cold, wet rag to my face. She cleaned up whatever was left on my face.

As she cleaned, I studied her gently wrinkled face framed by dark brown locks with a single grey hair that flowed around with the rest sticking out like a sore thumb. She reminded me of the pictures I had seen of my mother, of the little I could remember of her.

She gently cupped my cheek and stroked it with the pad of her thumb, "You are safe here, little one. We are not going anywhere, any time soon." I wanted to believe her. I dreamed of living here, of being loved.

______________

It was still dark when I stirred in the silent room. An all too familiar feeling drove its way up my spine as I opened my eyes. Nothing was different or out of place. Whatever was here hadn't made its way into our room yet. I slipped from Blake's hold, being careful not to wake him, though I was almost sure it wouldn't take him long after I left.

The door opened silently as I slipped through it, catching a faint scent as I did. I crept down the hall, following it as quickly as I could while staying near silent. My training kicked in, and suddenly I was back in the field stalking a rogue trying to win back freedom as I dodged every creak in the floorboards.

The dark figure stood outside a door as I approached. His form frozen and pained as he stared at the wood. I waited for him to notice me, a foot away from him, and met a pair of light red eyes I had never seen outside of my reflection in the mirror.

"You're here to throw me in a cell now, aren't you?" He kept his voice low, barely breaking through the silence of the hall.

I shook my head and matched his tone, "No, I don't have the authority." I ignored the quizzical look he threw me, "Who's in there?"

He paused and backed away more from the door, "My mate, I caught her scent while travelling."

"Is the door locked?"

He shrugged and looked back down at me, "I haven't tried. Who'd want a monster?"

I felt my eyes redden at his words, I knew the feeling well. I had the same thoughts regularly, even after meeting Blake, even after he slept in the hospital chair next to me every night I stayed in the medical wing. He studied me, clearly just as intrigued as I was about our similarity. "I think we should talk."

He nodded, giving one last glance at the door before following me to the main sitting area of the house and onto the leather chairs in a dark corner of the room where we wouldn't be seen by some late-night wanderer.

"Who made you?" He opened immediately as he sat across from me.

I cracked a smile. It made sense how quickly he got into it, I wasn't taught to be a small talker either. "I don't know who designed me, but my Father did all the dirty work." The look he gave me told me he was waiting for a name, "Alec Chapel."

He nodded, "I hate your father."

"I do too, most of the time," I gave a humorless laugh. "Did he make you, too?"

"Might as well have, you must be Lillian Chapel, the youngest Siren."

"I didn't know there were others, or that we were all called Siren."

The pause as he collected his thoughts stretched out the comfortable silence between us.

"Are you...completed?"

"Completed?" he tilted his head.

"Yeah, did you get all the work done that they designed for us?" I tried, desperate to know there was going to be an end to the surgeries, an end goal to the perfection.

"I see," he looked to the large empty space, "I don't think there ever was going to be an end." he looked at my disappointed face with an understanding I had never received from anyone else. I was glad there was someone else who knew what it was like, but I hated knowing there were others my father did this to.

"How many others are there, do you think..." I trailed off, not knowing if I wanted the answer.

"I found the list of names of all their subjects." He leaned in, resting his forearms on his knees, "There were twenty originally, but most of them died in the process. I think there are only five of us still walking around."

I nodded, leaning back in the chair, and stared at the ceiling tiles. Fifteen of us died, and my father had a part to play in each one of their deaths. I wondered how many mates had felt the separation, how many families found out they'd never see their family member again.

"Most of them died from the siren part of being a Siren," he added, filling the growing silence again.

"The siren part?" I questioned, not bothering to tear my gaze from the tiles.

"The vocal cord upgrade," He tried, "I can see the scar on your neck from that one, I know you got it."

I looked at him, surprised, "That was an upgrade? I thought that one was a punishment."

He simply shook his head, torn between the different actions he could take. I was glad he stayed put in his chair. I could feel Blake stirring through the slowly growing bond we had settled between us, and I did not want to deal with having to explain through a jealous rage and protecting a fellow rogue.

"Do you have a name?" If he gets to know mine, and more about what happened to me than anyone else, I thought I should be allowed his too.

"Daniel." He stretched as he stood. "Daniel Chapel."

~

Edited

Siren -Editing-Where stories live. Discover now