The human test goes well at first. Details on the new office space and equipment are given, matching perfectly with what I recall from my trip into Zane’s memory. The test subject, whom Zane refers to only by his first name—Adam—shows positive results initially. He cites an apparent increase in strength and immunity as two of the biggest benefits seen since beginning treatment with the compound, administered through injection.
Their luck doesn’t hold out. Things become more strenuous when Adam begins to show signs of deterioration. C and Zane disagree about what comes next.
“It’s 6:33 p.m. on March 30. Rose Project. Adam has shown rapid decrease. His pulse is spiking at around one hundred and ninety beats per minute. Blood pressure seems fine, but we have a medic on standby just in case. Something isn’t right. C is refusing to discuss possible tweaks. He says that we need more time, more data. I like Adam. I don’t think we should continue treatment if we can’t be certain that it’s doing more harm than good. Maybe that doesn’t make me a very good scientist, but... I’ll be forced to confront C if Adam’s condition continues to worsen.”
“Are you okay?” Zane’s hand is warm as he rubs a soothing circle across my back.
I nod, clear my throat. Anything to push the sickening ache from my esophagus. “Yeah. Adam. Did he…”
Zane’s amethyst gaze falls to the floor.
“I’d like to hear the rest from you, if you don’t mind.”
He frowns, but doesn’t turn away. I slip my palm into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I signed on to work on a project that would help people,” he begins. “Highly confidential, military contract-type stuff. The goal was to find a chemical compound that would speed the process of healing in the human body. A drug like that could save millions of lives worldwide. Pre-existing conditions, gunshot wounds, poisonings—anything you can think of—healed within a matter of minutes. It was a dream project. C was my partner, the medical expert to my mad scientist, and we became friends the red flags seemed to disappear.”
He drops into the chair next to mine, his head falling into his hands. His voice is thick, his next words tumbling out in a slow but steady stream.
“Adam was a middle-aged man with no cardio-vascular conditions or history of disease in his family. He was, however, in a terrible motorcycle accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. He was one of the happiest men I have ever met. Warm and friendly, with an easy smile and an infectious laugh. He never let anyone stop him, especially after the accident. He used to tell me that what he gained—the community he discovered, the zest for life—gave him more than he had ever had before. This was never about changing himself. I think he wanted to do something that would help others more than himself. He was that kind of person.
“He knew all of the risks. The first round went well. There were very few side effects except for a mild euphoric feeling that accompanied the administration of each dose of the compound. We didn’t think much of it at first, but Adam became addicted before we even knew that could be a problem. I wanted him immediately removed from the test, but C had other ideas.”
In addition to the euphoria, the healing effects of the compound made Adam feel superhuman, complete with a strength and speed that normal humans shouldn’t be capable of. Unfortunately, it also came with a vicious temper and adrenalinespikes that pushed his heart rate beyond what was healthy. Then Adam somehow managed to get his hands on an extra dose of the medication.
“I barely managed to stop him from injecting himself with the serum.” He shakes his head, his gaze distant and unfocused. “I tried to stop it. I didn’t know that C and our generous patrons had abandoned our original mission in favor of a more profitable one. I helped create one of the most powerful drugs this city has ever known.”
“Rose.” The word is thick in my mouth.
“I never should have brought Moira with me. After that call, I needed to make sure Adam was all right. We were on our way to the movies…”
I understand now why he might have been so reluctant to tell his story.
“My girlfriend was dead; I was dying. I had passed out from the pain of the bullet wound, but the shock of being dumped into the icy water brought me back to my senses.”
He had hidden in the water under the pier. Every moment was agony, and when he finally crawled back onto dry land, the office was in flames. C had taken all their notes and most of the samples of the compound.
“You took the drug. That’s how you were able to survive.”
“Yes,” he croaks. “And the addiction was worse than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t think of anything else. Couldn’t sleep or eat. There was only one thing that mattered. Ineededit, and trying to live without it was deteriorating my body. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to contain it. I started working on a cure for the cure.” His laugh contains no joy. “Angela and Edgar told the world I died while I hid and worked. My cousin Thierry, who became heir to the Maxwell estate, and George are the only other ones who know the truth.”
“Didn’t the police launch an investigation into the fire?”
“Moira’s remains were discovered in the ashes. They said it was a murder-suicide, that stress had pushed me past the brink. No one questioned anything after that.”
Poor Moira. I picture that sunny, smiling girl and an ache builds in my chest. Another light snuffed out by forces beyond her control, simply by virtue of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Every compound I tested took its toll on my body, made me more like this.” He gestures to his eyes first and then down his body. “The last concoction reinforced my will, made me strong enough to overcome the cravings and stop the damage to my body, but it had an interesting side effect.”
“Your powers.”
He nods. “The compound doesn’t last though. I have to give myself a booster, you might say, every few weeks. But it also gave me a purpose, path to justice, and an obsession with a gorgeous, powerful enemy who made achieving that goal much harder. And infinitely more interesting.”
A delicious tingle trail darts down my spine, settling somewhere between my thighs, as the cool pads of his fingers brush along my cheek, lingering near my lips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes fixed on my mouth. I feel his eyes on me as I swallow, then he takes a step away.
“Watch the rest of the videos, Kaye. Then I’m all yours.”
22
