Chimera

Big deal.

I’d already lived through both.

Chapter 17

In the tenth grade I played football. I wasn’t particularly good or bad, but I was quick. Outru

I would have given anything to be experiencing that cakewalk again.

“He needs a doctor.”

Insistent; the words were very insistent, with a calm that sounded stretched to a jaw-locking tightness. There was a pause as I floated in an ocean of black agony, and then came more words. “I can’t put him on. Are you even listening to me? Do you need the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of unconscious?”

Lukas. It was Lukas’s voice, and from the sound of it he was giving someone hell. Now who . . . ah. Random neurons collided with a spark. Saul. I’d told him to call Skoczinsky if he ended up on his own. Apparently the situation we were in was close enough to qualify.

I levered up eyelids that fought me every millimeter of the way. The slice of dusty yellow light that rewarded me was a cheerful ice pick drilling through the liquid mush that used to be my brain. Hissing with pain, I tried to cover my eyes with a clumsy and uncooperative hand.

The conversation continued unchecked as my heroic efforts went u

From the feel of the surface slick and cool beneath me, I was still in the backseat of the car. And from the sound of Lukas’s rigid a

Holding up my hand, I croaked, “Phone.”

Instantly Lukas popped into my view, his face directly over mine. From what I could see of the god-awful purple and gold shirt, it was stained to a darker color, almost black, from blood—my blood. He might disparage his medical skills, but it was obvious he had tried. “Stefan.” His face brightened fractionally. “You’re awake.”

“More . . . or . . . less.” Every single word was a molten lava of misery. “Phone.”

He hesitated, then put the cell phone in my hand. “Better you than me.”

Stubborn paranoia meeting paranoid stubbor

“That is one smart-ass little shit, Korsak.” Saul’s voice, slightly ti

“He’s not . . . fish.” I wanted to be amused. I settled on queasy. “Saul, we’re in trouble.” True enough, and the last thing I wanted to do was involve Saul. He’d done more than enough already, gone far above and beyond. Dragging him deeper into this mess was not the way to thank him. Unfortunately, I didn’t see any way around it, not if Lukas and I were going to survive.

“Yeah, I gathered that from the Boy Wonder.” He exhaled and I heard the sound of a hand rubbing over a face. “Tell me, Smirnoff. How bad are you, really?”

“I’m not dying.” At least I didn’t think I was. My eyes were begi

Saul’s network of subcontractors was numerous and far-reaching. If anyone could come up with the name of a competent and ethically flexible physician, it would be him. “That’s a tall order. Let me think a second. Where are you anyway?”

“North. Close to the state line.” My legs were already bent and I used the leverage to try to push myself up. I managed to rise up on one elbow, but the effort had me soaked in sweat. “I don’t know how they keep finding us. It’s been twice now. They come out of nowhere.”

“They haven’t been trailing you?”

“No.” As the arm supporting me began to shake, I felt two hands behind my shoulders bracing and easing me up to a sitting position. Twisting slightly, I leaned back against the seat and gave Lukas a grateful nod.

“The kid’s tagged then,” Saul said brusquely. “Hell, they microchip dogs and cats. It was only a matter of time.”

Tagged. Shit. That was the thought that had slithered away from me when I was stealing our latest car. I’d wanted to avoid anything with a GPS, but here I was hauling around my own walking, talking homing device. “Goddamnit.” And I’d thought my headache couldn’t possibly get any worse. “We’re screwed,” I said bleakly.

“Maybe not. If you can get to a doctor, he might be able to remove the chip as well as fix up your black and blue ass.” I could hear the distant sound of typing. “And I think I have the man for the job. Okay, his name is Lewis Vanderburgh, better known as ‘the Babysitter.’ He lost his license ten years ago and just got out of the joint last February.”

“The Babysitter?”

“Use your imagination,” he ordered curtly over a thick layer of disgust. “Needless to say he wasn’t too popular in the pen. He’s done some research for me, medical crap, and he needs the money. Picked up an expensive drug habit on the inside.”

“He sounds like a real wi

“When you can afford to be choosy, we’ll book you into the Mayo Clinic. For now it’s Dr. Degenerate.” He gave me the address. “Keep your eyes open and your back to the wall and you should be okay. He’s a monster, but he’s a weak one.”

Monsters, monsters everywhere. Speaking of which . . . “Saul, I need you to get some information for me.” I was fading, but this was every bit as important as finding a doctor. “Remember the scary son of a bitch from the van? His name is Jericho. I need for you to look up anything you can find about him and genetic research. Anything at all.” I couldn’t be more specific than that because I couldn’t tell him what had been done to my brother. I couldn’t tell anyone about that; not Saul and not my father. Protecting Lukas came first, even if that meant protecting him from the reaction of his own family.

“Jericho? That’s all you got?”

“That’s it,” I confirmed, closing my eyes against the dizzying sway of tall grass bordering the cracked and overgrown parking lot. “I’ll call you back tomorrow and see what you’ve dug up.”

An exasperated growl echoed in my ear. “You’d better not think this is some kind of freebie—you got that?”

I smiled, the barest twitch of my lip. “Never.”

Disco

“The bleeding’s almost stopped.” He regarded me gravely. “I should check your bullet wound.”