brain?” He met Logan’s eyes. “Or was it so bad that this seemed like an honorable way out? Suicide by Pack?”
Logan blinked, struggling to make sense of what the young man was saying, and fighting against the dawning possibility that he’d been taken captive by a madman.
A distant door clicked open. “Clayton?”
“Down here,” the guy—Clayton—called. “We have a problem.”
“So I smelled,” a deep voice murmured as light footsteps sounded on the stairs.
A man rounded the corner. He was tall and slender, dark-haired with a close-trimmed beard and dark eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than the other guy, and wore a polo shirt and trousers. Logan let out a soft breath of relief. Definitely a frat hazing.
The dark-haired man stopped short, nostrils flaring as he saw Logan. Dismay flickered in his eyes.
“New,” he murmured.
“Very new,” Clayton said. “And stupid. Walked right up to the door and asked for you.”
“For—?” Logan began. “You’re Jeremy Danvers?”
The dark-haired man gave a small twist of a smile. “Not quite what you expected?”
Logan told himself that didn’t matter, that he already knew this was a prank and hadn’t still hoped to find his father. And yet …
“What’s your name?” Danvers asked.
Logan only glared at him.
“Logan Jonsen,” Clayton said, lifting a driver’s license. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Jonsen?” Danvers said. “No.”
“Hey,” Logan said. “That’s my wallet.”
“Be glad that’s all I took. I was thinking of taking fingerprints, too…with your fingers still attached.” He looked at Danvers. “What do you want done?”
Danvers paused, then said, “I think we’ll give Mr. Jonsen the chance to reconsider.”
He stepped closer to the cell. Clayton tensed, as if Logan might grab Danvers through the bars.
Danvers continued, “I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but if you ever do it again, it will be the last time. And if you share this story with any of the others, I will reconsider my decision. Is that clear?”
Logan met Danvers’s eyes, and any argument dried up. He dropped his gaze and saw that his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists. Again, Clayton tensed, ready to lunge forward.
Danvers took a deeper breath and his chin jerked up.
“You haven’t Changed yet, have you?” he said.
Before Logan could answer, Danvers stepped closer and inhaled, then glanced at Clayton.
“I can tell he’s new, but that’s it,” Clayton said. “If he hasn’t Changed, he’s damned close.”
Danvers looked at Logan. “You
haven’t
had your first Change yet, have you?” He studied Logan’s eyes, then blinked. “Not only that, but you have no idea what I’m talking about …”
“Shit,” Clayton muttered.
“How did you get here?” Danvers asked.
“Someone sent me the name and address,” Logan said. “Supposedly my father, some bullshit about medical information, but obviously it was someone’s idea of a joke.” He looked up at Danvers, but couldn’t meet his eyes, and shoved his hands into his pockets, unable to muster any kind of fight. “Can I go? I just want to go, okay?”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Logan. Not just yet. Clayton? Bring him up to the study.” Danvers turned and lowered his voice. “Nicely.”
Logan looked longingly at the window. Beyond it, he could see a field and a forest, and in that forest, the promise of freedom. They’d left him alone in here, and he told himself he could open the window, climb out, and run, even if Clayton had warned he’d hear him.
In that forest, he’d find not only freedom, but the bliss of ignorance, where he could keep telling himself this had been an elaborate frat hazing…or a freak encounter with crazy people. If he stayed, he knew he’d discover the truth—that he was here for the very reason his father had sent him: to get medical information. And he knew that whatever condition he had, it
Logan blinked, struggling to make sense of what the young man was saying, and fighting against the dawning possibility that he’d been taken captive by a madman.
A distant door clicked open. “Clayton?”
“Down here,” the guy—Clayton—called. “We have a problem.”
“So I smelled,” a deep voice murmured as light footsteps sounded on the stairs.
A man rounded the corner. He was tall and slender, dark-haired with a close-trimmed beard and dark eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than the other guy, and wore a polo shirt and trousers. Logan let out a soft breath of relief. Definitely a frat hazing.
The dark-haired man stopped short, nostrils flaring as he saw Logan. Dismay flickered in his eyes.
“New,” he murmured.
“Very new,” Clayton said. “And stupid. Walked right up to the door and asked for you.”
“For—?” Logan began. “You’re Jeremy Danvers?”
The dark-haired man gave a small twist of a smile. “Not quite what you expected?”
Logan told himself that didn’t matter, that he already knew this was a prank and hadn’t still hoped to find his father. And yet …
“What’s your name?” Danvers asked.
Logan only glared at him.
“Logan Jonsen,” Clayton said, lifting a driver’s license. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Jonsen?” Danvers said. “No.”
“Hey,” Logan said. “That’s my wallet.”
“Be glad that’s all I took. I was thinking of taking fingerprints, too…with your fingers still attached.” He looked at Danvers. “What do you want done?”
Danvers paused, then said, “I think we’ll give Mr. Jonsen the chance to reconsider.”
He stepped closer to the cell. Clayton tensed, as if Logan might grab Danvers through the bars.
Danvers continued, “I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but if you ever do it again, it will be the last time. And if you share this story with any of the others, I will reconsider my decision. Is that clear?”
Logan met Danvers’s eyes, and any argument dried up. He dropped his gaze and saw that his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists. Again, Clayton tensed, ready to lunge forward.
Danvers took a deeper breath and his chin jerked up.
“You haven’t Changed yet, have you?” he said.
Before Logan could answer, Danvers stepped closer and inhaled, then glanced at Clayton.
“I can tell he’s new, but that’s it,” Clayton said. “If he hasn’t Changed, he’s damned close.”
Danvers looked at Logan. “You
haven’t
had your first Change yet, have you?” He studied Logan’s eyes, then blinked. “Not only that, but you have no idea what I’m talking about …”
“Shit,” Clayton muttered.
“How did you get here?” Danvers asked.
“Someone sent me the name and address,” Logan said. “Supposedly my father, some bullshit about medical information, but obviously it was someone’s idea of a joke.” He looked up at Danvers, but couldn’t meet his eyes, and shoved his hands into his pockets, unable to muster any kind of fight. “Can I go? I just want to go, okay?”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Logan. Not just yet. Clayton? Bring him up to the study.” Danvers turned and lowered his voice. “Nicely.”
Logan looked longingly at the window. Beyond it, he could see a field and a forest, and in that forest, the promise of freedom. They’d left him alone in here, and he told himself he could open the window, climb out, and run, even if Clayton had warned he’d hear him.
In that forest, he’d find not only freedom, but the bliss of ignorance, where he could keep telling himself this had been an elaborate frat hazing…or a freak encounter with crazy people. If he stayed, he knew he’d discover the truth—that he was here for the very reason his father had sent him: to get medical information. And he knew that whatever condition he had, it
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