CHAPTER SEVEN

EVELYN SHAKES ERIK'S HAND off her arm. Her blood is on his fingers, but he doesn't seem to be paying any attention to that. He keeps staring at her like she's an alien from another planet, something rare and unfathomable. It makes her incredibly uncomfortable. Snapping from her stupor, she huffs and rapidly twists away from his gaze.

If it weren't for Sasha, Evelyn would've kept walking.

"Eve..." Sasha has tears streaking her chubby cheeks and she's sniffling, looking up to Evelyn for comfort. Evelyn doesn't know how to give her any. "What happened to Harry?"

Evelyn gives Micah a short yet sharp look, then attempts to smile down at the little girl. "He's sick. He'll be better soon."

Locke cuts in. "You ruined a perfect outfit, by the way."

Evelyn rolls her eyes. "I didn't like it anyways."

Erik nods back towards the main house. "Come on. I'll show you where the washroom is."

Micah clears his throat. "That won't be necessary."

Evelyn rounds on him. "Excuse me? I told you I didn't want your fancy room anymore. These clothes aren't meant for me."

"Actually, I wanted to speak with you."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say. You lied to me."

Locke whistles under his breath. "There would've been less drama if you picked me," he mumbles, and Evelyn chooses to ignore him.

Micah clenches his jaw and his eyes darken slightly. The sight sends unnerving chills down Evelyn's spine that she unfortunately can't avoid like she can Locke's immature comments. It only increases her distaste on speaking with Micah, however, maybe getting it over with will compose him again. Or maybe it will make him angrier considering Evelyn has no filter on her mouth and has no idea when to keep it shut.

Annoyed that both options hold risks, she sighs dramatically. "Two minutes. That's enough time for me to clean up and plenty of time for you to talk."

Micah shrugs like time makes no difference for him. It probably doesn't, but it sounds official when you put a time limit on something. One of Evelyn's quirks, she supposes.

She promises Sasha she'll be back quickly and gives Erik a stern look when he says he'll watch her. She knows he's been doing that, but now it feels strange leaving Sasha without her again. Maybe it's the aching knowledge of Robbie's absence that convinces Evelyn she needs to be possessive over Sasha so she won't lose her too.

Micah follows Evelyn quietly, though he does carry her back up the long spiral staircase. She hadn't noticed her bandages bled through, which is not a surprise but a discomfort nonetheless. Micah especially seems to be irked by this, frowning down at all the blood. It's on her dress, her neck, her arms, and now her legs. And it's all her own, which she doesn't know is better or worse.

Mercedes is making the bed when the two walk in the room. The moment she looks up she gasps, covering her mouth with her hands as she rushes over. "I told you!" she says. "I told you to stay in bed, and look what happened! Wait--what happened?"

"Mercedes, can you give us a minute?" Micah asks, yet somehow there is no question in his tone. It's obvious she has no choice in the matter.

She nods but countless worries cloud her eyes. She leaves reluctantly.

Evelyn limps to the attached bathroom. She grabs a rag and turns on the sink, still astonished there's running water. "Why did you lie to me?" she asks calmly as he leans in the doorway.

"I didn't," he answers. "Honestly, I had no idea where he was. I was told he would be on a property far away from here and that was it. Those exact words."

She scoffs, wringing out the rag to clean the blood of her neck first. There's small indentions from Harry's nails, but thankfully they don't look deep enough to leave bruises.

"You don't have to believe me, but that's the truth. I was just as surprised with his presence here as you were."

Once she gets the blood off her arms, Micah nudges her aside and grabs bandages from under the sink. Routinely, she goes to sit on the edge of the bed, lifting the hem of her dress just above the wounds to allow enough access to change the bandages, but not enough to offer a view. Though Micah, shockingly enough, has not tried to see one, she doesn't trust a man's mind with a single ounce of her common sense.

He kneels in front of her, but she tries to grab for the bandages. "I can do it myself now."

He doesn't even look at her as he holds them out of her reach. "I want to make sure you didn't pop a stitch. Be cooperative for once, please."

She huffs, but obliges nonetheless.

While he's unwrapping her left thigh, he takes her off guard and asks, "What's your goal?"

"What?"

"Your goal," he repeats, glancing up at her. "In this life, what is the one thing you're setting out to accomplish?"

She frowns. She's never really thought of it like that. She supposes she has no real goal except to survive.

He purses his lips, thinks for a moment, then says, "For instance, my goal was to feel the power that was taken from me, and to make sure those who took it from me felt my misery. I wanted to be in control."

Her frown deepens. "Was?"

He shrugs. "I've come to terms with my new life. Seems like a pretty meaningless achievement now. On the bright side, your stitches are still intact so I think you only stressed the wound," he adds as he wraps clean bandage around her thigh before moving to her calf to repeat the process.

"So what, are you trying to say you'll help me?" With what, exactly, she's not sure.

Micah sighs and stops his work to meet her gaze completely. "I'm saying that there seems to be more players in this game than before. It appears I've been betrayed, so yes, in a sense, I'll help you. Or at least I'll be your ally."

Evelyn considers this as he goes back to changing her bandage. A stubborn part of her wants to deny that she needs an ally, but if he's truly being honest...

"I want you to take me to Robbie," she blurts, raising her eyebrows expectantly as he peers back up.

He mulls the idea over for a long while, nibbling his bottom lip with his fang. He finishes wrapping the fresh bandage and pushes to his feet. "All right," he finally says.

For the first time in what feels like decades, a flair of hope sparks within her.

***

Micah strides angrily down the narrow, pitch black hallway. His advanced eyes don't need light anyways. He runs over what he plans to say again and again until no decent dialogue strikes his appeal. He doesn't want to admit that he's hurt, but a piece of him had too much faith poured into this project to watch it crumble apart as if it meant nothing to him. Despite hating the feeling, devastation knots his stomach.

He arrives at the metal door with two experiments guarding it. It only takes a snarl for them to look the other way and act as if he's not there. He shoves the door open roughly, causing it to slam against the wall.

Doctor Stevens hardly flinches at the noise, calmly looking up. "Truth be told, I expected you a lot sooner."

Micah doesn't bother with words, instead purposefully walking over to the old man to grab his throat. He heaves the man up, toes barely scraping the ground.

"Now, 752, let's talk this through," the doctor stammers, his face already turning a bright red.

Micah brings the doctor's face close, squeezing his neck tighter. "I don't appreciate being stabbed in the back." He holds the man a little longer for pure suffering, then carelessly tosses him back onto the couch.

The doctor gasps for air while stretching out a hand for futile defense. "I'm only doing what I have to," he croaks, voice hoarse from the short strangulation.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Micah snaps. "You promised me I would be fixed if I found your beloved success. You promised all of us would be redeemed, but instead you're making us worse."

"No, no, no," the doctor says, managing to sit up. There's a strange smile on his face, as he's explaining something to a child. "Don't you see? I'm making you all stronger. It's necessary that 748 is the first to undergo the second operation so I can ensure the rest of you will be capable of the changes as well. Once a success, always a success." He actually chuckles.

Micah's fury level rises impossibly high. "Is this all a joke to you?"

"Of course not. I take all of this incredibly seriously." The doctor stands, stumbles for a moment, then grips Micah's shoulder. "I have astounding results so far, and I sincerely believe they will only get better. You're my second best soldier, 752. Imagine the possibilities if you got all of the new alternatives I'm working on now."

Micah remembers how horrible 748 had looked only a few hours earlier. Protruding jaw with rows upon rows of canines. Distraught and clawing at his head as if he had bugs in his hair. Micah doesn't want that insanity--he's been through enough of it. He doesn't want any part of any of those "new alternatives." For God's sake, is it too much to ask to just be normal?

He grabs the doctor's wrist off his shoulder and twists, causing the old man to whimper and grit his teeth. "You don't own me anymore," he says warningly. "You've crossed the wrong person."

"Now, hang on--"

Micah wrenches the man's arm so rapidly and viciously, it snaps in half. The doctor screams in agony, but Micah isn't finished with him. He pushes the man onto the couch again, clutching his other arm. "What of the children you stole, huh? Do you plan to ruin their lives forever as well?"

Tears flow down the old man's wrinkled face, his bottom lip trembling. He doesn't speak or even attempt to.

Micah growls, twisting his good arm slightly. "Where are they?"

"W-w-what do you want with them?" the old man whispers, releasing a sob right after.

"None of your business." He twists a little more. "Tell me where they are, or I'll make sure you never use either of your arms again."

Doctor Stevens' eyes widen, his head shaking wildly. "P-please, 752. I'm your f-family."

"Bad decision."

Right when he goes to snap, the old man shouts, "Wait! Okay, okay, I'll tell you j-just wait."

Micah pauses. "Get on with it then."

The old man struggles to gather his breath, and Micah can hear his heart pounding remarkably fast. "B-back at my lab. There's an underground building where I keep them, but I still don't understand why--"

"Make sure the bone is precisely set in place or it won't heal properly," Micah says, pushing away from his nightmare.

"What--? But wait..."

Micah blocks out the old man's shouts as he exits the room, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the two experiments on guard. "He'll need medical attention aside from his own," he tells them, then takes the narrow hallway back outside.