The Hollows Series Books 1-4

“The paramedics are coming,” Sara Jane said from the hall, her footsteps coming closer. “Can I get—” She stopped behind Jonathan and put a hand to her mouth, staring down at Faris.

Trent stood, the syringe slipping from him to fall dramatically to the floor. “Oh, Sara Jane,” he said softly as he drew her back into the hallway. “I’m so sorry. Don’t look. It’s too late. I think it was a bee sting. Faris is allergic to bees. I tried to give him his antitoxin, but it didn’t act soon enough. He must have brought a bee in with him unaware. He slapped his leg just before he collapsed.”

“But he …” she stammered, glancing back once as Trent moved her away.

Jonathan crouched to pluck a tuft of fuzz from Faris’s right leg. The fluff went into a pocket. The tall man met my eyes, a wry, sarcastic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” Trent said from the hall. “Jon?” he called, and Jonathan rose. “Please see that everyone leaves early. Clear the building.”

“Yes sir.”

“This is terrible, just awful,” Trent said, seeming to really mean it. “Go on home, Sara Jane. Try not to think about it.”

I heard her choke back a sob as her hesitant footsteps retreated.

It had only been moments since Faris had been standing. Shocked, I watched Trent step over Faris’s arm. Cool as broccoli, he went to his desk and pushed the intercom. “Quen? I’m sorry to disturb you, but will you please come up to my front office? There is a paramedic team on their way into the grounds, and after that, probably someone from the I.S.”

There was a slight hesitation, and Quen’s voice crackled from the speaker. “Mr. Kalamack? Yes. I’ll be right there.”

I stared at Faris, swollen and prostrate on the floor. “You killed him,” I accused. “God help me. You killed him. Right in your office. In front of everyone!”

“Jon,” Trent said softly, rummaging in apparent unconcern in a drawer. “See that his family gets the upgraded benefits package. I want his youngest daughter to be able to go to the school of her choice. Keep it anonymous. Make it a scholarship.”

“Yes, Sa’han.” His voice was casual, as if dead bodies were an everyday occurrence.

“That’s real generous of you, Trent,” I chittered. “She’d rather have her father, though.”

Trent looked at me. There was a bead of sweat at his hairline. “I want to meet with Faris’s assistant before the day is out,” he said lightly. “What was his name … Darby?”

“Darby Donnelley, Sa’han.”

Trent nodded, rubbing his forehead as if bothered. When his hand dropped, the sweat was gone. “Yes. That’s it. Donnelley. I don’t want this to put me behind schedule.”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“The truth. Faris is allergic to bee stings. His entire staff knows it.”

Jonathan nudged Faris with a toe and left. His steps were loud now that there was no background noise. The floor had emptied shockingly fast. I wondered how often this happened.

“Like to reconsider my previous offer?” Trent said, addressing me. He had his untasted shot of whiskey in his fingers. I wasn’t sure, but I thought they were trembling. He considered the drink for a moment, then tossed it back with a smooth motion. The glass was set gently down. “The island is out,” he said. “Having you closer would be prudent. The way you infiltrated my compound was impressive. I think I could persuade Quen to take you on. He laughed himself breathless watching you duct-tape Mr. Percy in his trunk, then almost murdered you after I told him you had broken into my front office.”

Shock blanked my mind. I couldn’t say anything. Faris was dead on the floor, and Trent was asking me to work for him?

“But Faris was quite struck with your stirring,” he continued. “Deciphering pre-Turn gene-splicing techniques can’t be much harder than stirring a complex spell. If you don’t want to explore your limits in the physical arena, you could go toward the mental. Such a mix of skills you have, Ms. Morgan. It makes you curiously valuable.”

I sank back on my haunches, dumbfounded.

“You see, Ms. Morgan,” he was saying. “I’m not a bad man. I offer all my employees a fair situation, a chance for advancement, the opportunity to reach their full potential.”

“Opportunity? Chance for advancement?” I sputtered, not caring that he couldn’t understand me. “Who do you think you are, Kalamack? God? You can go Turn yourself.”

“I think I got the gist of that.” He gave me a quick smile. “If nothing else, I’ve taught you to be honest.” He shifted his chair closer to his desk. “I’m going to break you, Morgan, until you will do anything to get out of that cage. I do hope it takes a while. Jon took nearly fifteen years. Not as a rat, but a slave all the same. I imagine you will break a lot faster.”

“Damn you, Trent,” I said, seething.

“Don’t be crass.” Trent picked up his pen. “I’m sure your moral fiber is as strong as if not stronger than Jon’s. But he didn’t have rats trying to rip him apart. I had the luxury of time with Jon. I went slowly, and I wasn’t as good then.” Trent’s eyes went distant in thought. “Even so, he never knew I was breaking him. Most don’t. He still doesn’t. And if you suggested it, he would kill you.”

Trent’s distant gaze cleared. “I quite like having all the cards faceup on the table. It adds to the satisfaction, don’t you think? Not having to be delicate about it. Both of us knowing what’s going on. And if you don’t survive, it’s no great loss. I haven’t invested that much in you. A wire cage? Food chips? Wood shavings?”

The feeling of being in a cage crashed over me. Trapped. “Let me out!” I shouted, pulling at the mesh of my cell. “Let me out, Trent!”

There was a knock on the doorframe and I spun. Jonathan entered, sidestepping Faris. “The medical team is parking their van. They can get rid of Faris. The I.S. wants a statement, nothing more.” His eyes flicked disparagingly at me. “What’s wrong with your witch?”

“Let me out, Trent,” I chittered, growing frantic. “Let me out!” I ran to the bottom of my cage. Heart pounding, I ran back up to the second floor. I threw myself against the bars, trying to knock the cage over. I had to get out!

Trent smiled, his expression calm and collected. “Ms. Morgan just realized how persuasive I can be. Hit her cage.”

Jonathan hesitated in confusion. “I thought you didn’t want me to torment her.”

“Actually, I said not to react in anger when you misjudge how a person will respond. I’m not acting out of anger. I’m teaching Ms. Morgan her new place in life. She’s in a cage; I can do anything I want to her.” His cold eyes were fixed to mine. “Hit—her—cage.”

Jonathan grinned. Taking the folder he had in his hand, he swung it against the wire mesh. I cowered at the loud smack even though I knew it was coming. The cage shook, and I gripped the mesh floor with all four of my paws.

“Shut up, witch,” Jonathan added, a pleased gloating in his eye. I slunk to hide in my hut. Trent had just given him permission to torment me all he wanted. If the rats didn’t kill me, Jonathan would.

Twenty-One (#ulink_1aa6ce4e-f7d3-59f7-b9e0-acbaca060459)

“Come on, Morgan. Do something,” Jonathan breathed.

The stick poked me, almost shoving me over. I trembled as I tried not to react.

“I know you’re mad,” he said, shifting his crouch to jam the dowel into my flank.

The floor of my cage was littered with pencils—all chewed in half. Jonathan had been tormenting me on and off all morning. After several hours of hissing and lunging at him, I realized not only was my frenzy exhausting, but it also made the sadistic freak all the more enthusiastic. Ignoring him was nowhere near as satisfying as yanking pencils out of his grip and gnawing them in half, but I was hoping he would eventually tire and go away.

Trent had left for his lunch/nap about thirty minutes ago. The building was quiet, as everyone slacked off when Trent left the floor. Jonathan, though, showed no sign of leaving. He had been content to stay and harass me between forkfuls of pasta. Even moving to the center of my cage hadn’t helped. He had simply gotten a longer stick. My hut was long gone.

“Damn witch. Do something.” Jonathan shifted his stick to tap me on the head. It hit me once, twice, three times, right between my ears. My whiskers quivered. I could feel my pulse begin to pound and my head ache with the struggle to do nothing. On the fifth tap I broke, rearing back and snapping the stick in two with a frustrated bite.

“You’re dead!” I squeaked, throwing myself at the wire mesh. “Hear me? When I get out of here, you’re dead!”

He straightened, his fingers running through his hair. “I knew I could get you to move.”

“Try that when I’m out of here,” I whispered, quivering with rage.

The sound of high heels in the hallway grew loud, and I crouched in relief. I recognized the cadence. Apparently so did Jonathan, as he straightened and took a step back. Sara Jane strode into the office without her usual knock. “Oh!” she exclaimed softly, her hand going to the collar of the new business suit she had bought yesterday. Trent paid his employees in advance. “Jon. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” There was an awkward silence. “I was going to give Angel the leftovers from my lunch before I ran my errands.”

Jonathan looked down his nose at her. “I’ll do it for you.”