letting her know he was ready for her to move. She continued on, feeling sick over that last little creature. It reminded her of how she’d hidden in the corner of a dark basement every day of her childhood until she’d escaped at eighteen.
Humans feared monsters.
But the monsters in her life had been humans.
At the end of the passageway they dropped down another twelve steps to where she found a door with an actual doorknob.
Casper leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I can get under the bottom.”
She kept her voice soft, too. “But I can’t cover you from this side if you aren’t able to open the door.”
“You hear that music?”
Listening, she said, “That atonal noise?”
“Guess whoever’s in there likes heavy metal from the 90s. I might get in unnoticed.”
She still didn’t like the idea of letting him go in without backup.
The scream of a human—being tortured—on the other side of the door was all she needed to wrench the doorknob that was . . . not locked.
They both rushed in, then stopped just inside the door. The room was two stories tall, and the first thing that hit Evalle was the sharp antiseptic smell. This was a lab. Refrigerated units stood against one wall. Microscopes and assorted bottles of fluid and test tubes sat on laminate counters.
But that’s where the image distorted.
Music blaring from a stereo system in the shelves on her left had been cranked to bleed-your-ears level.
Mixed in with the antiseptic taint was the stinky body odor and cow manure smell of the creature she’d fought in the pasture, and the sickening smell of blood. In the next few seconds, she scanned the room for any additional threats and possible exits.
The flying creature they’d followed in the helicopter had been chained on the far side of the room to the foundation of metal steps that led upward to a landing and another door.
A man with a bald spot in the crown of his barkbrown hair and wearing a white lab coat stood facing the creature whose mottled skin had been flayed open.
So there was a human in this house of horrors.
The man swung a cat o’ nine tails whip, striking the creature and shouting, “You were Level Three! Level Threee! ”
The creature screamed in pain. Then it sobbed.
Really, it sounded like a human bawling.
Evalle reached over to the white cabinet and turned off the music then ordered, “Stop. Right. Now.”
The crazy lab guy turned around, clearly surprised that someone had entered his domain unscathed. “How’d you get past my guardians to this point?”
“Is that really important right now?” she asked. “Who are you?”
He ignored her question, staring at her with an expression of disbelief. He put two fingers to his temple as though sensing something, then shook his head. “The guardians are still alive. . . . I don’t understand.”
That meant he had some sort of telepathic connection to the creatures fighting in the parlor. So what was this guy? There was nothing remarkable about him. He had bland skin, a basic nose, short hair and wire-framed glasses over gray eyes. But those gray eyes lacked any humanity. They were cold and flat.
Casper told Evalle, “Looks just like the photo Trey had on his phone. He’s Sar Bendelen.”
Evalle had the urge to point out that she’d been willing to suspect a doctor of evil, but admitted it wasn’t fair to all the decent ones who helped people. “Call off your monsters, Sar.”
Sar’s eyes went from surprised to perfectly calm. “Or what? I’m someone you’ll regret having crossed.”
She couldn’t believe this guy was acting as though the police had entered his home uninvited. “The longer you allow your guardians, as you call them, to battle our agents, the better chance you have of answering for this with your life.”
“Me? I’m not bothering a soul out here on private property,” Sar emphasized. “And you come busting in. I’m within my rights to protect my home.”
“Not with those
Janwillem van de Wetering