Skinwalker
Chapter 20

Catherine is sitting on her cot with her arms crossed and her attention on the whitewashed brick wall across from her. I thought the smell of blood would catch her attention but so far it hasn’t. What could she possibly be thinking about so intently? I knock on the glass with my index knuckle.

The teenager looks at me and then blinks one time. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Built into the glass is a tray door, just like one would imagine could be found at a prison. I kneel, open it, and push a Styrofoam cup through the space before closing it. From this side, the glass is safe, but from within, there is an electrical current that keeps the subjects from attempting to break out. One touch and they get zapped with a warning. Each additional attempt causes the shock to become more intense.

Without a word of acknowledgment, Catherine takes the cup that is waiting for her and drinks it. It’s followed with a sour grimace but her tongue scratches around the container cleaning every last drop before putting it back where she found it. It isn’t enough to do her very much good and it isn’t human, so it won’t replenish much of her strength. In conditions as desperate as hers, it’s good enough. It will get her through another day or two.

I take the Styrofoam cup and head back toward the lab. The guard at the desk went to use the restroom or maybe to take his break. I’ve been waiting for him to clear out all day. Now that I’ve delivered Catherine’s blood, I need to get out of here.

“You’re Kendal’s friend,” a voice says from the left of me.

Pausing, I glance in that direction. “Tala,” I whisper.

For two years I’ve had photos of this woman sitting in my house. I’ve listened to stories from my best friend about the two of them growing up in the same pack. About this woman’s father and her being so fierce that she killed the pack alpha when she was barley an adult.

I learned she was here, yet somehow it didn’t seem like she really could be. She’s always been a myth to me, never a real person.

The hybrid werewolf is shorter than I expected but every bit as intimidating as I could have imagined. A petite, attractive woman like all the pack tails I know, but with bushy eyebrows shadowing dark brown eyes and a chocolate aura that makes the hair on the back of my neck prick up. Even just standing there I can see her tight sun kissed skin rolling over strong muscles. In the pictures I’ve seen, I’ve considered her beautiful. In here, she looks like the animal within, trapped in room that’s six feet long by five feet wide.

Subhumans aren’t meant to be contained like this; it’s forcing them to lose the part of them that is human.

How does she know I’m Piper? How does she know what I’m capable of when even Noah and Kendal didn’t? At least they didn’t when she was around.

“If you get caught, you’ll never leave.”

I’m beginning to get sick of people telling me to leave. “When I leave, I’m not leaving alone.” Then I walk away, back toward the lab where I intent to throw away the empty cup of pig’s blood I fed to Catherine however the security desk distracts me.

It’s still abandoned, and I don’t know how much time I have, but I walk around it anyway. There are papers scattered near the computer that’s being used by the guard. They must be important if security needs them. Without a second thought, I spread them out and take a couple photos with my cell phone. Before I leave, I pile them back together, grab the cup, and hurry from the station.

Despite the desire to examine the photos I just took, I throw myself at Brittany’s work; it’s easy to fall into the routine she’s perfected over her time working here.

The schedule on the wall has a shapeshifter named Isaac scheduled for routine testing immediately after my lunch break. My host’s thoughts tell me this person is as true a volunteer as Neut. He’s been in treatment since the creation of the program and his willingness to cooperate has earned him many privileges. Despite the length of his time here, they have yet to submit him to trial treatments.

Staring at the piece of paper, and at Isaac’s name, I ponder what I’ve accomplished so far. This morning I saw Cassandra, I snuck blood to Catherine, and I acquainted myself with Tala. According to the log I’ll see Levi and Logan before clocking out this evening. Pride in this accomplishment fills me; all five in two days.

Tonight, I can start working on an escape plan that could possibly be put into action as soon as tomorrow. We could all be free of this place in as little as 24 hours.

“Isaac is on his way,” Annamarie states, hanging up the red phone she answered a moment ago.

My lungs fill to the brim with air and when I can’t take any more in, I slowly let it escape. This person is not on my side and he’s going to know right away that I’m not Brittany just like Neut knew. He’ll see my aura and in one breath, this could all be over.

Swallowing my fear and embrace Brittany.

Even though I want to ask Annamarie to take him, I don’t, because I can’t. Giving a patient up for any reason is outside of my hosts character. Then again, maybe a trade wouldn’t be so farfetched after I accepted care of Logan? Caring for another subhuman who will realize I’m not human, this close to achieving my goal, is risky. If he’s anything like Neut, things could go south real quick and I can’t afford to get caught right now.

When I’ve decided to ask Annamarie for the trade, Isaac comes into view and my mind is in shock and disbelief because I know him. Not Brittany, not some other host I’ve banked over the years, but me. I, Piper Amber Monáe, have meant this man out in the real world. His name isn’t Isaac though, it’s Alexander.

During the eight years I knew him, he’d never gone by his middle name. At least, not by choice. It was against his will that our mother would scold him the way only a parent can, by shouting their child’s full name. Even after 15 years, I can still hear her voice shout, Alexander Isaac Monáe! He was always in just enough trouble that getting his attention required all three names.

I was told he died.

Before his gaze falls on me and he connects the dots about who I am, I go back to my desk, and begin busying myself by organizing the papers. Knowing who Isaac really is, keeps me from asking Annamarie for the trade. I have no idea what sort of person my brother’s turned into, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve seen him, but I have to believe he wouldn’t rat me out, at least, not immediately.

How was he not one of the datasheets I was given? It’s clear he’s a volunteer; the freedom of roaming the hallways unsupervised is a dead giveaway. Regardless, the subhuman government should be concerned about any hybrid Genetics Incorporated has in their custody whether they’re a volunteer or not.

Is it possible they have no idea he’s here? Is a false name and misleading species tag just enough of a trick to not draw their attention? He’s been here since the beginning of the program; was that long enough ago that the subhuman government didn’t care about Genetics Incorporated? Or is the harsher reality the truth, the one where Queen Scarlet knew he was here and simply decided to keep it from me? This wouldn’t be the first time she’s withheld information from me. I get the feeling it won’t be the last, either.

Once I’ve collected myself, and my thoughts, I put Brittany on auto pilot. For right now, I need to do my best to be my host. My brother is an obstacle I have to navigate around in order to achieve my goal.

Inside the room I immediately busy myself by collecting supplies. My host would have greeted him by now and asked how he’s doing. I can’t manage the words and I feel the awkwardness of this situation radiating from me and filling the small space. Having collected everything I need in silence, it’s gotten to the point of no return. A greeting now would be out of place, especially when there’s no greeting in the world designed for this situation. So, I set the materials I’ve collected on the silver tray and slide it toward him.

“You’re unusually quiet, today,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

Until now, I’ve completely avoided eye contact with him, but I can’t anymore.

I wish that his aura was silver and not honeysuckle but because it is, I know that he, too, is a hybrid. Our mother must have abandoned him and then lied about his death. I had no way of knowing he became a subhuman until today. I believed he was dead, even after my mother and stepfather relinquished me. By the time I became a skinwalker he’d been in the ground, dead from a car accident, for three years. This was never a different outcome in my mind. I’d never believed it wasn’t true.

His lips form my name questionably, but no sound escapes his mouth.

Keeping my voice down, I say, “I mourned for you.”

He leans back in the chair and vigorously rubs his face with both hands, as if he needs to wake up, as if he’s hallucinating this situation right now.

I want to take my anger out on him; I want him to know all of my pain.

The emotions clouding his eyes when he looks at me next leave me uncertain to what he’s thinking and feeling. What did our parents tell him when they faked his death? How did they convince him to stay away, to leave me alone? Surly it wasn’t his choice to leave; it wasn’t mine after I changed.

“It was supposed to skip her,” he speaks as though I’m not here, talking to himself. “How did this happen to her? She was supposed to be human.”

I wasn’t that lucky. “What are you doing here?”

What I really want to know is why he left? Why he agreed to never come back? Where has he been? Why hadn’t he tried to find me? I deserve an explanation. I needed my brother.

“I don’t want this,” he says after a long pause.

Frowning, I say, “You don’t get that choice.”

Before Levi was abducted, he said to me, we are born what we’re meant to be whether we like it or not.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

I haven’t seen my brother since I was a child which means I no longer know if I can trust him. He’s volunteering for this cure. They didn’t abduct him from some parking lot or steal him from his home; he’s here because he wants to be. I don’t know this person anymore. I can’t trust him with the truth.

“You must think I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Prove me wrong.”

Silence swallows us.

Somewhere inside of this man is the Alexander I knew, the one I could trust. At least I hope that’s the case because I need him to keep quiet about me being here. There are subhumans relying on me to save them, and my own flesh and blood could be the reason this whole thing falls apart.

Only because I have no other choice, I begin prepping Alexander for his draw. The blue tourniquet is tied around his upper arm, I feel the bend in his elbow, looking for the elasticity of a vein. When I determine the location I want to draw blood from, I clean the site, and slide the needle remorsefully into his vein.

Despite being my brother he’s basically a stranger, a stranger who looks like me. Sunkissed blonde strands mix throughout his auburn hair; his roots are dark. The skin on his jaw is tight and his facial hair is thick, even, and in the stubble phase. His eyes are hazel like mine; his bold aura is unable to be overlooked. How old is he now? After a moments reflection and simple math, I decide he must be 28 or 29. It’s sad, but I can’t remember his birthday.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says.

I swap out collection tubes. This time I just watch his blood fill it until I need to make another swap. Once I’ve filled four tubes, the needle is ready to be pulled from his skin. I stick a cotton ball over the insertion site and use the safety retract button to remove the needle. He holds the cotton against his skin; I expect him to leave the room, but he doesn’t.

Alexander is looking at me, but what he sees is Brittany. Everything on me is exactly like her; from the way she does her hair to the paint on her fingernails and her annoyingly proper posture. Everything is her except my aura.

“What does my sister look like?” he asks the question as if I’ve seen her, not as if I am her.

I keep my attention on labeling his tubes.

I hear him sigh before he throws the cotton ball in the trash. “I haven’t seen you in years.” I say nothing. “I thought it missed you.”

“Did you ever even bother to check?” Regret fills his face. “I didn’t think so.”

There are so many other emotions I’d like to express than the cold behavior I’m giving him now, but they’d put me at risk of exposing who I am. While Brittany maintains a loose friendship with him, she doesn’t actually care about him. She’d have no reason to slap or hug him. She collects his blood on occasion and being civil makes time go by faster. Right now, I can’t do anything other than know he’s alive and experience my emotions privately.

After a moment, he straightens up and walks out.

Grabbing the vials of Alexander’s blood, I pause to consider them. Inside of these tubes is his entire genetic code, everything that makes him Alexander is right there and part of what makes him, him, makes me Piper. He may be willing to give this up; he may want to be a human, but he doesn’t get to make that decision for me. If they cure him, they can cure me.

I put his tubes in my lab coat pocket and intend to accidently forget they’re there.

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