Novel - The Supernaturalist Read Online Free PDF Page B

it made sense. Doctor Ferdinand Bartoli’s genetic experiments were an infamous chapter in modern history. The doctor had performed gene-splicing tests on a batch of infants in an attempt to create a superhuman. Instead, he corrupted the babies’ own DNA, resulting in a series of mutations. ESP was one side-effect, but the most common was arrested physical development. The Bartoli scandal led to the outlawing of gene experimentation for more than ten years.
    Cosmo gingerly rubbed his bristling scalp. A section of his forehead felt hard and stippled.
    “There are pressure-release pores in that plate, so don’t poke anything through the skin.”
    Robotix plates in his head and Bartoli babies. It was almost too much to take in. “Anything else?”
    “That’s about it. Of course there are still a hundred or so staples in various cuts and bruises, but I disguised them with skin-spray. All in all, you’re a lot worse than you look.”
    But not worse than I feel, thought Cosmo.
    Mona peeled the foil from a patch and stuck it to his arm. “The best thing for you is rest and recuperation. This sedative patch should keep you out for a while. The next time you wake, you might even be able to walk around a bit.”
    “No,” protested Cosmo, but it was too late. The sedative was already seeping into his bloodstream.
    “’Nighty night,” said Mona gently.
    Cosmo’s limbs felt weightless. His head wobbled like a toy dog’s. “ ’Nighty night,” he echoed.
    Or maybe he only thought it, because the world was dripping down his eyeballs like wet oil paint down a canvas.
    Cosmo woke again about five seconds later, or so it seemed. But that couldn’t be right, because the halogen strip lights were on, and muffled stars poked through the smog beyond old-fashioned hanging curtains. Not many people used curtains anymore, generally react-to-light glass came with the building.
    Cosmo ran through his memories as if they were files on a computer screen. Who was he? Cosmo Hill, fourteen years old. Fugitive no-sponsor. Where was he? A warehouse maybe, rescued by a band of creature hunters. A tall teenager, a Latina girl, and a Bartoli baby. Could that be true? It seemed impossible. Could he become part of this strange band? Was that what he wanted?
    Cosmo’s brain stuttered to a halt. What did he want? This was a question that nobody had ever asked him. He rarely asked it of himself. The only thing he had ever wanted was to escape from Clarissa, and now that he was out, he had no idea what to do next. But Cosmo did know one thing with absolute certainty. He was never going back to Clarissa Frayne. Never.
    Cosmo checked his injuries. The pain was still there— muted, but there. Like a troll under the bridge, ready to pounce if he moved too quickly. The bandage was gone from his wrist, and his entire forearm was covered with skin-spray.
    After several minutes of basic breathing and blinking, Cosmo decided to put his limbs to the test. He sat slowly, dizzy from the sedative patch stuck to his arm. He peeled it off, checking the sponge. White. No more juice. That explained why he was awake.
    His new knee was covered with a plexi-cast. The transparent cast was filled with an anti-inflammatory that would accelerate the healing process. A green LED over the cast’s x-ray panel told him that the leg was safe to walk on.
    Cosmo tested the ground like a swimmer testing arctic waters. His knee twinged, but nothing more. He must have been out for at least forty-eight hours for the cast to have done its job. His forehead was a different story. Every movement, however slight, sent a steel nail of pain hammering into his skull. Almost as bad as the pain was the itch of new skin growing over the robotix plate in his forehead.
    He gritted his teeth and began walking, his initial target being the jug of filtered water on the table five yards away. Not exactly a marathon, but not bad, considering what he’d been through.
    Cosmo almost reached the