One Bite With A Vampire (Hidden Species #2) - Louisa Masters Page 0,2

trust, Percy would be on the short list.

“Come on, then.” I stalk ahead of him, and I hear him mutter something as he follows, though I can’t make out what.

Are you confused yet? Need a cheat sheet? Let me give you the CliffsNotes version of my life since I turned eighteen.

My name is Noah Cage. Except it’s not, really, because the people I thought were my parents were actually only fostering me on behalf of a terrorist organization, the Coalition for Community Advancement (CCA). About forty-five years ago, the CCA decided that it wanted to enslave humanity—oh, wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me give you the dirt on me first.

So, two days after my eighteenth birthday, about three weeks before graduation, I came home from school to find three huge men who looked as though they liked to rip people apart for fun at my house. My parents were packing bags. The men told me I was going with them. I asked my mom what was going on. She said, “I’m not your mom. You’re eighteen now, and we’ve been paid.”

I freaked out. The scary dudes seemed prepared for that, because next thing I knew, I was waking up in a lab, strapped to a table.

Ever had that happen? I do not recommend it.

While I was trying to work out if my parents had actually sold me or what, and if so, to whom and why, my doctor walked in. Yes, seriously. My parents had always been kind of freakish about medical checkups, so once a month Dr. Tish would visit our house and give me a physical. In retrospect, it’s weird, but when that’s literally all you’ve known your whole life, it’s normal. So at first I was relieved to see my lifelong doctor—and then I realized he was the root of all my problems.

The next eight months were brutal. Most of the tests they ran were minimally invasive—things like vision and hearing tests, physical stamina and endurance. And the blood tests, of course. There were so many damn blood tests. And it was the same thing, day after day, sometimes with increased stimuli to cause stress. The doctors and lab assistants talked freely in front of us. Once I realized that meant they didn’t think we’d ever be able to repeat what they were saying to anyone else, it was pretty fucking terrifying. But it means I know a lot about the tests they ran, even if they never really talked about why they were running them. The base knowledge was something they didn’t discuss, and it frustrated the crap out of me not to know why they were doing this to us.

Because, yeah, I wasn’t the only one there. I’m not actually sure how many of us were being tested, but the cell-slash-dorm I lived in had three other guys in it, and the hallway it was in was lined with doors. I guess I could find out the number now if I really wanted to—there are records—but knowing how many others were victims like me isn’t going to make me feel better.

I stab the button for the elevator, trying to block out the sound of Andrew chatting with… someone.

“…keep telling them that if they didn’t bring the cookies, I wouldn’t eat them. That makes sense, right, Rania? It’s not my fault they bring delicious cookies that mesmerize me into eating them!”

Ugh. Seriously? It’s enough to make me want to take the stairs. Except I have no doubt he’s much fitter than I am and would probably talk to me all the way up.

Fortunately—unfortunately?—we’re not the only people who get into the elevator, so even though I still have to hear his voice, at least he’s not talking to me.

So… where was I? Right, imprisoned by my childhood doctor for tests I didn’t understand the purpose of. Like that wasn’t horrible enough, there was something really weird about all the people at the lab compound. Like, weirder than you’d even expect for scientists and guards who were conducting medical tests on unsuspecting teenagers. At first I thought they were doing some kind of cosplay with fake fangs and horns, or that I’d ended up in the middle of one of those creepy Dracula-worshiping cults. Or maybe Satanists—I mean, if you wanted to worship the devil, you’d probably be okay with wearing fake horns, right? But then one day I saw one of the guards change into a huge dog. If shapeshifters were real, that meant