Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Work In A PRISON For Monsters. I Interviewed The Most Dangerous One | Scary Stories

Episode Date: September 6, 2023

You won't believe where I work.   Story from Head of Spectre Make sure to check out more of their work at u/HeadOfSpectre                           Original Post: I Work In A Prison For Monsters. I Interviewed The Most Dangerous One : r/HeadOfSpectre                                 Original YouTube link: I Work In A PRISON For Monsters. I Interviewed The Most Dangerous One.        For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new scary stories, new true stories, and new creepypasta stories every day!

I can't tell you exactly where, but in the middle of nowhere in the southwestern United States, there's a Supermax prison that I'll call Asher State Penitentiary or ASP for short. That's not its real name, but it'll do. Now, as with most maximum security prisons, there are some genuinely sick people there, murderers, psychopaths, rapist, you know, the kinds of people who can probably never be allowed back into society. A lot of people claim that it simply isn't possible to escape from this prison. And maybe they're right. I really hope that they are. Not because I'm afraid of the sickos they've got in the cells. I mean, I am. Of course I am. But even the most disturbed serial killing necrophiliacs they've got in there,

Don't scare me as much as what they've got in their basement. I don't think most of the regular staff is fully aware of the prison's other inmates. I've heard rumors that some of the guards are aware that something is up, but they either don't care or they know better than to ask questions. I imagine they probably think it's some government lab or something, running experiments that may or may not be entirely ethical on convictory. some people would say that might arguably be preferable to the truth. They have your standard security procedures, of course.

For starters, inmates aren't allowed to have any contact with each other. Some of them are not permitted to leave their cells, and those that are only do so under heavy guard. There are no common areas. There's no yard, and every inch of the place is under heavy surveillance. The whole basement complex is surrounded by 20 feet of reinforced concrete and runs deep beneath the prison itself. Digging your way out simply isn't an option. There's only one elevator that goes down into the basement complex of ASP,

and it only moves if you got a valid passcode and keycard. On top of that, the elevator is monitored on both ends. If anything goes wrong, the elevator gets shut down. Nobody enters that complex. and nobody leaves. You may wonder what requires that much security. You might think that whatever's down there can't be human. And you'd be right. I can't tell you much about the organization I work for, but they refer to themselves as the International FAY Relations Bureau, or FRB for short. I legitimately do not know the overall scope of their work. They're good about keeping things quiet, But what I do know is that they deal with the supernatural. Monsters, demons, fe, gods.

It all falls under their umbrella. And ASP is where they keep the ones who prove to be problematic. Most of the unusual things in this world are content to keep to themselves. My understanding is that there are far fewer of them than there are of us, and most of my colleagues and I agree that there are certainly, certainly on the decline. It's why the FRB is eager to study them, especially those they have in captivity, and that's where I come in. I'll admit it. I took the prison job to satisfy my own curiosities. Despite my position as a consultant with the FRB, I'd still had only fairly limited

experience with the supernatural. Aside from a few strange people I'd sometimes run into at their southwestern branch, who most likely weren't entirely human, I'd never seen any of the things we'd researched firsthand. The closest I'd ever really come was when my dad passed away. And even then, I never got a good look at whatever it was that killed him. I only knew that it wasn't human, and then it wasn't an animal. That was what brought me to the FRB, and ultimately what led me to ASP. I'd been reading about these things for years.

I'd seen footage that most people would never get the chance to see, but I'd never actually laid eyes on anything truly supernatural. This job was my chance. Not only to get my hands in the dirt and interact with them, but I'd be learning about them too. Maybe I could even find ways to keep people safe from them. You can't imagine how exciting of an opportunity it was. It really did feel almost like something out of a dream. I'm sure that on my first day working at ASP, I was the only person.

person walking into that dreary place with a legitimate smile on my face. I was met at the door by a tall and heavy-set man with kind eyes. He had a warm but tiny smile that seemed just a little out of place, given everything I knew about Ashurst. Dr. Barry, he said, obviously recognizing me as he went in for a handshake. Welcome to Ashurst. It's nice to finally meet you. The name's Bob Hitch.

The warden asked me to meet you here. It's nice to be here, I replied, trying to match his smile. He had an absolutely crushing handshake that didn't last for long. Well, I'm glad you think so. This wasn't an easy position to fill. Ashurst doesn't exactly have the greatest reputation in the first place. I'm sure you can imagine why. I've heard some rumors.

I said as he led me inside. Tom flashed his key card to one of the guards in the front entrance who gave him a nod. He turned down a sterile hallway, lit with fluorescent lights, and I followed him closely. A lot of them are true, he said. We don't typically deal with Jen, Pop, but you'll still see and hear things. Part of the job, I'm afraid. It can't be as bad as the inmates were dealing with downstairs. I replied, half joking.

Bob didn't seem amused. You'd be surprised and disappointed to know just how similar the two are. He replied. Up ahead was a barred metal door that we stopped in front of. Bob looked up at a security camera in the corner of the ceiling and flashed a weary smile before a buzzer sounded and the door opened. We walked past a security booth where Bob stopped to show his ID to the guard there. Morning, Mikey.

We've got to get to the guard there. some new blood with us today." The stone-faced man in the booth glanced at me, before scanning Bob's ID. He didn't respond to Bob's comment before he buzzed us through another door that led to a steel elevator door. I assume you've been briefed on our security protocols here, correct? He asked as we approached the elevator. He scanned a different key card to summon it. I was, yes, the key cards, the concrete, the surveillance.

Good, saves me that part of the tour. He gestured for me to step into the elevator and pressed his thumb against a pad to be scanned before we descended. The ride down felt longer than it should have, but maybe it was just my nerves. You'll be joining our research team working under Dr. Jason Hendrix. A's all right. For the most part, they observe the behavior of our inmates, although on occasion you'll be asked to interview some of the more talkative ones. Under supervision, of course. Some of the

shit we've got down here is a whole new level of dangerous. Best not to take any chances. Of course, I said, and I paused a moment before asking. How long since you've had a major incident? Like an escape? Never. We've had a few attempts and we've had to put down a few of the more determined ones, but that's it. Our warden has one hell of a record when it comes to safety. She takes a lot of pride in that. She? Elizabeth Parker, yes. She's been running this place for almost 35, 40 years. I think she's been the one in charge ever since they opened it up. It might be best to let you know up front that she's not entirely human. Vampire. You know how it is. Wait, wait, so the warden is an actual vampire?

I asked, a little surprised. That hadn't been mentioned in the brief I'd gotten. Yeah, that she is. I figured the FRB thought it might look better to have someone who wasn't fully human running the show down here. It's probably for the best. A lot of our staff are also either fay or empowered beings. Werewolves, vampires, mediums. Best to fight fire with fire, right?

So what are you? I asked, almost a little cautiously. I'm the head of the research division. Right, got it. I said with a nod before the elevator doors opened. I was greeted by the site of another sterile hallway, although this one seemed a lot busier. Bob checked us in at a security checkpoint in front of the elevator door,

before a final bar door opened to allow us into the hallway itself. Welcome to the basement, Dr. Barry, Bob said as we step through, Let me introduce you to the team. My first few weeks at ASP went about as well as I'd hope they would. There was a slight adjustment period to be sure, having never seen any actual Faye or supernatural beings before. It was hard to figure out who was what. Just about everyone passed for a normal human at a glance, but in time I did start to pick

up on the subtleties that set them apart. Most of the guards were were wolves. You could usually tell by how chummy they were with everyone. I would have thought they'd have some sort of pack mentality, but if anything, they were just high energy and sociable. It turns out that werewolves are actually just really nice people. And that is not a sentence I ever thought I'd get to say. say. A lot of my co-workers on the research side ended up being vampires. They were a little easier

to pick out, namely because the stereotypes are mostly true. They were pale, usually quiet, and kept themselves. I never saw any of them eat either, although I also never saw any of them bite anyone. I still don't actually know how they feed, and I don't really want to ask. The Faye and mediums were harder to pick out. Sometimes I'd catch a coworker moving something without touching it, or I'd see something a little strange and that would give it away. But without that, it was never obvious. Even if I couldn't figure out with perfect accuracy just who was what, it didn't make the overall experience any less exciting. For the first time in my life, I saw the creatures I'd been researching for years up close, and it was both breathtaking.

I'm not at liberty to share most of it, and what I could share would fill up pages and pages. There was so much, and it was beautiful. It was everything I'd ever wanted, and I suppose I really should have known better. Maybe then I wouldn't have been stupid enough to try and talk to Vikram. I suppose it's an inherent flaw of humans. To want to categorize things into neat little boxes, isn't it? Maybe it's just some doomed desire to understand that which we cannot comprehend.

Either way, the FRB is just as guilty of that little sin as the rest of humanity as. They categorize entities into five, technically six classes. Class 1 entities aren't dangerous. They're either small enough to pose no danger or outright benevolent. Things like mediums and most ghost, for instance. Class 2 entities are actually dangerous, but only incidentally. Things like some of the more predatory fay or ghouls. Sure, they can kill you, and some of them might just do it because they can, but they aren't outright looking to hurt anyone. Class 3 entities are dangerous on a larger scale, things like more powerful forms of

fay and whatnot. Generally, the FRB had to put them down when they encountered them, although a few still ended up in containment. A lot of what was held at that prison were either these or Class IIs. Class 4 is where it gets interesting. These are the things that could probably wipe out humanity if they were left to their own devices. I could only think of a couple of class 4s who were held in ASP. And even then, they were held up. under the strictest of containment protocols. Then, last but not least, came to Class V's. Class V is reserved for the things that would flat out destroy the world as we know it, if given

the chance. Nine times out of ten. These were gods. I'd only heard rumors of Class V entities and never actually encountered one. I doubt I'd ever come close to doing so at ASP either. How exactly does one build a prison for a god? Technically, there's also a class six, but that's reserved for only four known entities who are quite literally the greater gods that hold reality together.

I won't get into those. If he can't imprison a class five, you're not going to do shit against a class six, so why bother even talking about it, right? Anyways, Vikram was a class four entity. It was what most people call an old fay, an ancient, corrupted dryad, with quite a lot of power. From what I've read about the old fay, they're technically just a few steps down from being gods, and each can be contacted in their own special way. For the weaker ones, you just need to make your way through the woods and follow the right path.

But for the more powerful ones, well, let's just say, It gets complicated. Human sacrifice levels of complicated. Most Old Fay are considered class three at worst, but Vikram was a special exception. As Old Fay went, he was one of the more powerful ones. If I recall correctly, performing his ritual had involved carving an ocarina out of the skull of an infant, and playing it in a special clearing. He was brought into captivity, after dragging a small town into whatever weird dimension the

old Faye typically hide in, and keeping them there for a few centuries just for shits and giggles. Since the F.R.B. had no idea on how to kill an old Faye, they'd opted to contain him. I guess it wasn't all bad. Supposedly, Vickram could have answered a lot of lingering questions we had about Dryads, and the old Faye if he'd wanted to. But that was sort of where the problem started. He didn't want to.

I first saw old Vikram about three weeks after starting at the ASP. Dr. Hendricks had put me on a team to analyze the footage from his cell. The whole point had been to take notes on his reactions to certain substances he'd been exposed to. I suppose the whole idea had been to see if anything we tried could actually hurt him, but neither Dr. Hendricks or any of my coworkers ever said that. out loud. I remember the first time I saw him on a recording. My team and I had set up a television in a quiet boardroom. The week before, a small team of guards had attempted

maintenance on old Vickram's cell using a solution of vinegar and salt water. I'm not sure where they'd come up with the idea, but I suppose it was worth a shot. The footage we were shown depicted a few men in hazmat suits entering the cell through the airlock. Oh! Vickram himself wasn't even visible on the screen. Someone else had told me before that he didn't like being seen. But even if he wasn't visible, there was evidence that he was there, all right. You could see the dense foliage growing from the back of a cell toward the airlock. Spreading plant life is something that dryads just sort of do, and the old fay are no exception. I watched as the men in suits sprayed down his foliage, before,

they retreated out the airlock unmolested. I'll admit, giving everything I'd heard about things like old Vicarum, I hadn't expected him to just let them leave. But I suppose this was a more controlled situation than what one might find out in the wild. From there, we watched to see if the vinegar solution had any effect. Boring stuff, really. I wish I could say that it wasn't a complete waste of time, but it absolutely was. Salt and vinegar, various types of weed killer, new variations they developed.

None of it worked. Even if it normally should have killed the plant life in there, it didn't do jack shit as long as he was in there. Old Vickram was content to ignore them, and they kept away from the back of his cell where he was hidden amongst the foliage. His camouflage was damn good, too. Looking straight into his cell, it was impossible to see him. The only way we knew he was even still in there was because of some of the readings from

inside the cell, confirming that something was definitely alive in there. I remember it was after about a week of watching the security team waste their time and hours, that I finally asked Hendrix the million-dollar question that had crossed my mind. You guys ever think, to just interview the big guy? We'd been receiving one of the last rounds of testing that had utilized a variant of Agent Orange that some idiot had modified to be even more dangerous, and I'll admit that my question mainly came from a place of frustration. What? Old Vickram? Hendricks asked, looking over at me. He scoffed.

Old Faye like him aren't known to be all that talkative, unless you've got something to offer him. So what have we got to offer him, then? It's not a question of wreat. It would probably depend on who's doing the interviewing. Old Fay always want something personal, something of value, and not always something tangible. They might take years off your lifespan or memories of the people you love most. Dealing with them is risky. interviewing him could end very badly.

I take it that nobody's volunteered then, I asked. Nobody's that stupid, Barry. Maybe I shouldn't have taken that as a challenge. Not to speak out of turn, but we're not exactly getting very far by watching the guard spray him with chemicals. I don't know. Maybe it's time to try a different approach. I mean, if at first you don't succeed, sometimes. you just redefined success. Hendrix raised an eyebrow. And you think trying to talk to him

is going to yield results. Well, it can't hurt to try. I'll do it myself if I have to. Consider me your first volunteer. I knew that Hendricks wasn't taking me completely seriously, but I was about as serious as a heart attack. All right then, he finally said. Tell you. you want, I'll have a word with Warden Parker, see if I can't get her to sign off on this, and then we'll talk about getting you in there. That was the best possible news I could have heard. Thank you. I'll do what I can to get something out of him, I promise.

Hendricks still didn't look sold, but I couldn't have cared less. I'd already gotten everything I wanted out of him. It was a few days later that I got a visit from Warden Parker. It was fairly late in the evening. Most of the team had gone home. I'd stuck around to finish a report on an interview I'd had with another inmate when I heard the door to the lab closed suddenly. The sound had made me jolt upright,

and when I looked I could see the figure of a woman standing by the doorway. She was tall and slender with a pressed tan suit that fit her loosely. She wore a wicker cowboy hat on her head and aviator sunglasses, giving her a strange, modern cowgirl look that seemed a little out of place at the ASP. That said, I knew who she was the moment I saw her. When she walked towards me, she moved with the smooth grace of a dancer. Dr. Stephen Barry, she said, her voice low and almost condescending. Um, yeah, that's me. Warden Parker, I presume.

The very same. I hear you're the one looking to chat with old Vickram. I am, yes. She took off her aviators and hung them off her shirt. Beneath them, her eyes were a cold blue. Well, son, you've either got massive balls or a death wish. I thought I'd stop by to find out which it was. She stopped a few feet away from me, studying me carefully, and sizing me up. Dr. Hendricks said that you'd never tried getting someone in there to talk with him before. I thought a change in approach might be smart. Hendricks and his team have never tried. Bob and I, on the other hand, have. I'll admit this was before Hendricks' time. He may look old, I am much older, and Bob's been here with me since day one.

Old Vickram was one of our original residents, and the FRB wasn't quite as smart back then, but I digress. Someone's already tried to talk to him. It didn't go well. If you don't mind, may I ask what happened? The warden smiled, showing off gleaming, white fangs. I was kind of hoping you would.

Mind if I borrow your computer, Doc. She shooed me out of the way, and I gave up my chair for her. We were hoping to get some actual results, so we had everything recorded. I doubt you'd have the clearance to access those files, but I do. Just give me a sec. She closed out of my report, and instead opened up a Dropbox folder. Within a few minutes, she'd found. the video she was looking for. It looked old. The footage was grainy and colorless, but I could

recognize the image on the screen as Vikram Sel. The warden tilted my screen so I could get a better look before she played the video. I could see a man on the screen moving up towards a desk that had been set a safe distance back from the old Fay, who wasn't visible on the screen itself. A team of four guards, complete with riot shields flanked him and took up a defensive position in front of him as he sat down. Hey, uh, good morning, Vikram. He said, how are you today? There was no reply. We, uh, got some questions we'd like to ask you, if that's acceptable. Still no answer. Could you tell us more about you? Still nothing. It was hard to make out the expression on the face of the

man behind the desk, but I could see a quiet frustration on it. Well, Vickram, we've done our best to ensure your comfort. All we ask is that you cooperate with us. If you prefer we use more difficult means, we are happy to do so, but we would prefer a more respectful and dignified approach. Vickram didn't say a word, but this time, at least he replied in a sense. I could see the guards tensing up as something happened off camera. I could hear them yelling to each other before scrambling to retreat. The man behind the desk leapt up and stumbled backwards towards the door of the cell, but he wasn't fast enough.

I could finally see what he and the guards saw as they shambled on to the camera. long, grayish, humanoid figures. Their bodies were skinny to the point where their ribs were visible against their skin. There were at least six of them, and they rushed forward, charging at the guards and quickly overwhelming them. The men didn't stand a chance as the creatures ripped into them with claw and tooth. The man who'd been behind the desk had made it to the door, and pounded on it, screaming to be let out, before one of the grayish humanoids pounced on him, forcing him to the ground, as it began to bite at his face and throat. His terrified struggles didn't last long.

Within seconds, his arms had gone limp in death, and the only sounds I could hear from the video were the distorted screams of the creatures that Vikram had set loose. The warden stopped the video. There. Old Fay are remarkably powerful, she said plainly. Even now, I doubt we know just how strong they really are. Fifty years ago, we had no idea they could be captured.

Forty years ago, we had no idea they could summon packs of ghouls out of thin air. Twenty years ago, we had no idea he'd figure out how to open the door. And five years ago, we had no idea how he'd survived, after we modified his cell to deprive him of air. It's taken a lot to keep old Vikram captive, and my top priority is finding a way to kill him, not to get his autobiography. Those people in the video, I asked. Are they dead? Yes.

We couldn't even retrieve their bodies. And I'd rather not have another incident like that. If I let you poke him, he'll kill you, and he'll kill whoever we send in with you. I was silent for a moment. At a complete loss for words. I hadn't imagined that he was truly that dangerous. I suppose maybe I should have known better, but... What if I brought him something?

I asked. Old Fay love boons, don't they? Maybe if I bring him something, he'll give me something you can use to kill him. What? By a method of execution, off of the condemned, she said, raising an eyebrow. Are you crazy? I'm just trying to think I'm just trying to think I. outside the box here. If we give him something of value, he'll give us something, won't he?"

I could see the warden thinking it over. Unless you've got a better idea. It's worth a shot, don't you think?" She just chuckled. You don't give up, do you? Tell me something, Doctor. Why do you want to get in there so badly? I just want results, I said. I came here to study things like him up close and personal. and if I can help with us. The warden studied me quietly for a moment, before deciding that my answer was good enough for her. She closed the video and got up.

All right, then. I'm going to approve your request to speak with old vicaram. I assume you have some idea as to what you're going to give him in exchange for this information. I do, I promised her. Let's hope it's good enough. I don't want to leave you to die in there. But if I have to, to preserve the safety of the others who work at this installation, I'll do it without a second thought. Good luck.

And then just like that, she was gone. When I was eight years old, my dad bought me a model submarine. We'd spent the next few weekends working on it together, building it piece by piece. At the time, the complexity of it had been intimidating, the glue, the tools we'd needed, the engine. He'd told me it was just a Lego set, but it had felt so much bigger than that. When we'd completed it, it was something greater than anything else I'd ever built. Just looking at the finished product had made me feel like I'd done something incredible, Like building that submarine had been what turned me from a boy into a man.

Even after my father passed, it kept a special place in my heart and had consistently found its home in a place of honor on the various shelves of the various places I'd lived over the years. There was nothing I loved more than that little submarine because it reminded me of my dad. And it reminded me of the best days of my life. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to part with it, but I was sure that this would be worth it. On the day that I was supposed to stare down old Vickram, I arrived at work carrying the submarine in my arms, cradling it like my own son.

Bob met me at the door, just like he had on my first day there. "'Morning, Dr. Berry?' He said warmly, as he held the door. door open for me. Big day today, huh? Big day, I repeated, and I caught him looking at the submarine. I could see a hint of doubt behind his smile. So, I take it that's your offering.

It's the best thing I've got, I replied. God, I hope so, never seen the warden so antsy before. I am amazed you talked her into this. You and me both, I said, as we made our way down the hall. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit antsy myself, but I'd already made up my mind. Old Vickram's cell was one of the most high-security setups we had. It was away from the other cells and down a sealed-off hallway that could only be accessed from the outside.

The door that separated it from the rest of the prison looked more like a massive vault door than anything else. It locked behind us as soon as we'd gone through. through. On the other side, I could see a control room that watched the inside of the cell through cameras and monitored both the vacuum-sealed state of the reinforced cell and several sensors to ensure that old Vickram was in there, even if they couldn't see him. I spotted Dr. Hendricks amongst the staff in the control room and traded a nod with him. Well, well, it's the man of the hour himself. I heard a voice ahead of us.

say. The warden waited by the small airlock that granted access to old Vikram's cell. It had been designed to be too small for him to fit through. There's still time to back out if you're having second thoughts. Nobody here would blame you in the slightest, she said. And deny them a show? I asked. No, I'm as ready as I'm going to get. I could see her studying me, looking for some trace of a lie. I'm not sure if she found one or not. I'll take it from here, Bob, she said. Bob just gave her a respectful nod, then patted me on the shoulder. Good luck, friend, he said, before heading off to the control room. The warden watched him go before her eyes returned to me. We've sent some people in to set up a desk for you to sit at. I'd advise you stay at it.

Whatever you do, don't cross the red line in the cell. If you sense anything out of place, leave immediately. If we can get you and your security detail out safely, we will. But in the very high possibility that we can't. I understand, I said. I really hope you do. She looked down at the submarine in my hands. I couldn't tell if it was a look of approval or not.

Either way. She didn't comment on it. I'll be out here. We'll be sending you in momentarily. I'll have bulb sealed up last doors on the control center, and in front of the vault, then we'll send you in. If things go bad, we'll have to vacuum seal the cell again, and if necessary. Freeze it. If it's any consolation.

It'll kill you quickly, assuming you're not already dead. Hopefully I'll see you on the other side. But if I don't, it was nice knowing you. Um, likewise, ma'am. She cracked a small smile before gesturing to a group of eight guards who'd been lingering nearby to join me. Just like the ones in the video, most of them were equipped with riot shields, although I spotted two men with full-on flame-throwers.

An alarm sounded as large metal doors closed over the entrance to the control room and the vault that led to the rest of the prison. My guards took their places by the airlock and entered first. The warden watched quietly, before nodding at me to go inside after them. The door of the airlock closed and sealed behind me with a hiss, and I could feel the air around me change to become colder and more humid. The first thing I noticed when the airlock opened was the smell. It was moist, earthy, and a little sour.

My security team fanned out around the desk that had been set up for me and took up their positions. Once they were there, one of the men with a flamethrower gestured for me to join them. I'd never actually seen the full scope of Old Vickram's cell before. All I'd seen was the video taken from one of the cameras in the corner. It seemed so much bigger in person, like a school gymnasium. The far wall looked overgrown with vegetation and parts of trees that should not have been able to grow down there. It was impossible to see anything clearly amongst it, but I knew that Old Vickram was

there. Even without seeing him, I could feel him watching me. Slowly I approached the desk and set my submarine down onto it before taking a seat. I cleared my throat, struggling for a moment to find my voice, before at last I was able to speak. Good morning, Vikram. I said softly. I've come to you with an offering, something that means everything. to me. I'd like the opportunity to speak with you, if you'll permit me that."

My voice echoed off the walls, and at first there was no response. I only stared ahead at the dimly lit wall of vegetation, looking for some sign of life or movement. For a moment, I began to wonder if I wasted my time. What if he didn't accept my offering? What if he didn't even want to speak with me? And then I saw it. The leaves on the far end of the room shifted. What I thought was just the bark of some impossible tree twitched and creaked as it moved. At first, it was impossible to make out the shape of its body,

limbs that seemed impossibly long detached from the wall, although I couldn't tell what was supposed to be an arm and what was supposed to be a leg. A large shape, I'd initially mistaken for a burl of bark, detached from the wall and turned to look at me. In the low light, I could see a skull-like face on it with pale, beady eyes that watched me closely. An offering. How very quaint! voice hissed as old Vickram revealed himself. His body seemed to be made of twisted, gnarled wood, with branches and leaves jutting off of it. His limbs seemed impossibly thin, and yet he carried himself

on all fours like a predator. Too long has it been since won his offered tribute, and never before has one of your Your kind offered it. I could hear the groan of creaking wood in his voice as he surveyed me and my guards, seeming almost amused by the sight of them. What is your game, human? What is it that you seek? Just to learn. I said quietly.

More about you. More about your kind. So coy are you? Very well. Your offer is accepted. Too long has it been since I've had someone to talk to. I pushed the submarine towards the edge of the desk and watched as old Vikram outstretched a gnarled hand to reach for it. I could see my security team tensing up, anticipating an attack, but they held their fire as

Vikram took the submarine. As his fingers closed around it, I could swear that I saw grayish flesh in between the wooden carapace on his hands. It had a sickly, sweet, moldy smell to it. What was it you wanted to know, human? Ask. Let's start with the old Fay like you. What are you, exactly?

Where did you come from? Where? From the earth, as all things are. Even you. We are those who survived you. We are those who sought refuge from your kind, moving into deeper and darker places. Adapting to it as need be.

You were seeking refuge from us? Need, I explain why. Our kinds have never been fated to live in harmony. In generations past, you feared us. You told stories of us in reverence and dread. You avoided the woods that we claimed as home, and then as time moved on, you changed. You pushed deeper into our homes, fueling your own development, your own growth. Perhaps in time you shall fear us again, and we shall retake our place. as that which you fear. We shall see.

So we were killing you off? I asked. How? We can't seem to destroy you now. You think yourself clever? We've only just begun, and now you've shown your true intent. Typical of a human. I and those like me have surpassed.

Death, my heart, is gone away. Far from here, and so I shall not die. Not to you. Your efforts only waste your time, I shall confess. I have enjoyed this unending life I have earned, even locked in here by you and your kind. At the very least, my My future is assured, unlike yours or your fathers." I caught myself tensing up. It shouldn't have surprised me that he'd mentioned my father. I'd given him something so important to our relationship, but the very mention of him caught me off guard all the same. Ah, my apologies, I know you miss him. I imagine you'd give anything to see him again.

To say goodbye, wouldn't you? I hesitated before finally answering. If I ever had the chance. Yeah, maybe. I knew I was playing with fire. I knew that. I'm not sure what I was thinking, even bothering to humor him like that, but I did it anyway. All it would cost is a few years. You've been so kind as to humor me with some conversation.

I can be generous. A few twilight years for a chance to say goodbye. My gift to you. I knew it was a mistake. I knew that. But looking at the thing before me. I figured I had nothing to lose. All right, I finally said. Take what you need. I was sure I saw a gleam in Vikram's pale eyes. He turned away from me to lope back towards his wall. Very well, then. From the leaves he'd left on the wall, I could see something moving. Something in the shape of a man shambled out, stumbling on unsteady legs like a foal. Even in the low light, I recognized its face. It was my father.

I could hear Vikram chuckling, a low, ominous sound that filled the room. The thing that was my father approached us on unsteady legs, its skin grayish and pale. I could see it studying us before I heard an alarm. Wait, I called. But I was too late. The ghoul in the shape of my father led out an inhuman snarl and made a charge for one of the nearby guards. It crashed against his riot shield, clawing at it as several more creatures just like it. All with my father's face emerged from the brush and charged for us.

One of the guards with a flamethrower opened fire, setting ablaze the creatures as I stumbled back, away from my desk and through the door of the airlock. Two of the guards who'd accompanied me covered me, coming in with me as the rest put down the twisted monsters that Vikram had summoned. His laughter echoed off the halls, cold and menacing. I should have known better. The warden says I'm lucky that I'm still alive. I know she's right. I had a moment of weakness, and it nearly got me and my security team killed.

Thankfully, aside from a few injuries, nobody died. I think that's the only reason I wasn't fired. That, and the fact that I really did get something out of old Vickram. He'd mentioned his heart. He hadn't said much, but he'd said enough. Maybe if we find that heart, we can destroy it and we can kill him. It's just a theory, but it's better than nothing. Now all I need is something to offer old Vikram, so he'll tell me exactly where to find it. Dr. Hendricks told me I'm lucky I still have a job after that stunt with old Vichram. I've got no regrets.

I made some mistakes, sure. I should have known better than to trust a single war. out of that creature's mouth. But when he brought up my father, well, I guess that was what it took for all sound judgment to go out the window. It's not a mistake I intend to make a second time. My name is Dr. Stephen Berry, and I've got a very unique job. I work at a prison in the southwestern United States that will call Asher State Penitentiary, since I legally can't disclose its actual name. Like any Supermax, it's got its fair share of psychos, but I don't don't deal with them. No, I work in the basement where we keep the real monsters. Literally.

Fay, sirens, werewolves, mimics, vampires. We've got them all and we've got the worst of the worst. There's a certain measure of danger inherent to any of these creatures, but the ones at Ashurst are the ones that we can't allow to exist out in the world. The only reason they're still alive is because we either can't kill them or they're too valuable to kill. Old Vickram was one of the ones who we couldn't kill, namely because we didn't know how. I'm hoping the little information I did get off of him will be enough to change that, but like I said before, I made a lapse in judgment. Just for that, I doubt I'll get a chance to continue my work with him anytime soon. I did try, of course.

I requested a second opportunity to interview old Vikram, but Warden Parker shot it down. I don't blame her. All things considered. I'd say I took it all very well, and I don't mind the position I was reassigned to. I think it suits me. Dr. Hendricks gave me a rotating schedule of interviews, none quite as high profile as Old Vikram. I mostly deal with the class twos, but I can't really complain.

At least they're interesting. For example, one of my regulars is a siren named Kayla. She was booked a few months back for a string of murders north of the border, although she's about as far from Canadian as it gets with her country girl drawl. My interviews with her are always interesting. Nine times out of ten, she's already slipped her cuffs by the time I get into the room, although she never tries anything. Trust me, Doc, much fun as it might be to pop your head like a grape.

ain't worth the trouble. I enjoy being alive, she said, the first time we met. The guards at the door don't give much of a shit. So relax, I'll be a good girl for you. I won't pretend as if the flirtatious undertone in her voice didn't get my blood pumping just a little. Sirens are almost universally gorgeous and Kayla was no exception. With sun-kissed skin, shining brown eyes and long brown hair that she usually tied back into a ponytail. She'd usually leave the top buttons of her plain-grade jumpsuit undone to show off some cleavage. She had a figure that was both athletic and voluptuous, with curves and all the right places. She was the kind of girl who most people would probably do anything for.

And knowing what she was, if you looked her dead in the eye without protection, You would do anything. You see, Sirens have a few very unique traits. First and foremost, they're amphibious. They can manage on land just fine, but they need clean water to soak in, or else they'll dry out and die. Their second unique trait is just how adept they are at hunting. They're generally much stronger than your average person, and can overpower them fairly

easily, although that's not how they usually hunt. Oh no, I'm not entirely sure how it works, but making direct eye contact with a siren can have a certain effect on a person. Just a passing glance, and you'll literally do almost whatever they say. It's not exactly foolproof. Some people can resist it. Others crumple like paper, and there's always a limit to just how far they can push someone. It always varies depending on how strong that person is versus just how strong the siren is, and to my knowledge their little ability doesn't work on everyone. For example, vampires, mediums, and most fay are immune to it. As a rule, whenever any one of our staff interacted with a siren, there was a particular visor we needed to wear. I can't tell you what

exactly they treated it with. But the whole point was to negate the hypnosis of the effect of looking them in the eye. Everyone had to wear them, regardless if they were susceptible or not, just as a safety precaution. As for the third unique thing about sirens, they're hemivores, which means they need fresh blood in their diet to survive. Nine times out of ten, it ends up being human blood. I heard a theory once, Kayla had said to me once. It was during one of of our routine interviews, and she was avoiding my questions as per usual. You know about the uncanny valley, right, Doc? I'm aware of it, I'd said. Why?

Somebody once told me that humans are the only ones who experience it. You know how some animals would try to screw things that look like animals, but aren't? Like decoy models or something? You don't usually get that with humans. Usually. And your point is? Well, according to the theory I heard, at some point humans learned to fear things that looked like them, but weren't them, and that was a valid enough fear, that it was passed

down through the generations. But of course, that then raises a very important question, doesn't it? Just what was it that you people were so afraid of? Does your theory have any suggestions as to what this thing was? I asked. Nah, but I think I do. She leaned in towards me, grinning from ear to ear like the cat that ate the canary. I think it was us.

Faye. Monsters. Whatever the hell terms you folks use, I mean, if the shoe fits, right? We're your only natural predator. Things like me. We're the only things out there that hunt you for food. My brow furrowed a little. I made a note of what she said and she watched me.

It's possible. The only problem I can see with your interpretation of that theory is that we're working closely with several of your kind and there's no predator prey relationship there. Oh, my, doctor, are you talking all sciencey to me now? Well, then here's my counter-hypothesis. They've all lost their way. But me, I'm one of the few who still remembers what I am, what I've always been, for the past 500 years.

And look what that got you. I imagine that kind of attitude is what led to your excommunication from your former community and subsequent rampage across the province of Ontario where you killed 30 people? Kayla just scoffed and leaned back in her chair. Oh, I told you, I don't remember how many there were. As for where I put the bodies. Well, that's my little secret. I never asked about the bodies.

We've danced this dance before, Doc. were about to slip it in somewhere. She absentmindedly pushed her empty cuffs around the table. I only ask, because we'd like to give the families of your victims closure. You can respect that, can't you? Honey, I don't do happy endance, although for you, I might make an exception. She cracked a small grin, exposing a row of jagged animal fangs. How about you slip into my cell one night?

I promise I won't tell the gods." That's a generous offer, but I'll pass. My watch beeped and I checked it. Our time was up. I collected my notes and Kayla sighed. Aw, is our thirty minutes up already? Same time next week, Doc. Have a nice evening, Kayla.

She just chuckled in response. She winked at me before the guards entered the room from behind her. She put up no fight as they put a pair of fresh cuffs on her, and I left the interview room behind. After I was done with Kayla, I headed back to my cubicle and logged my results from her interview, although I can't say she'd given me much, as per usual. My brief had been able to get further info on the number and final resting places of her victims. I hate the concept of calling anyone a lost cause, although after over a month of working

with her, I was sure that she was never going to talk. At least our chats were interesting, and she was more subdued than most of the other inmates I dealt with. I was mostly done with my report when I heard the door to the office space open and close. Given that it was fairly late in the day, I was one of the few people still in the office, and that alone told me who it probably was. The footsteps made a beeline straight from my desk, moving quickly and with purpose. Good evening, Dr. Barry, the warden said. Her voice was calm, so I took that as a good sign.

Warden, I said, looking over to give her a polite nod. How are you doing? Great. Still trying to figure out the source of that damn ozone smell they keep complaining about in the server room, but otherwise great. Still? Seriously? If it's not one thing, it's another. She sighed. I assume you're logging in the results of your siren interview, correct? Yes, ma'am.

And after that I'm out for the evening. The look in her eye told me I wasn't about to head home. Well, I'd hate to keep you, but if you've got a moment, we need someone to have a little chat with Malachi down in Sector, too. I knew Malachi. He wasn't on our usual rosters of interviews, but I dealt with him before. He was a vampire. A very old and ornery one, too.

As far as we knew, he'd been kicking around since at least the time of Emperor Nero, and he could have been much older. He wasn't usually one for conversation, so there was really no way to tell for sure. What kind of chat? One of the guards caught him reading something in his sale yesterday. This, she said. She slipped something out of her pocket and placed it on my desk. Looking at it, it looked like a crumpled up piece of toilet paper.

Something had been gently scrolled on it in pen, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. The language wasn't one that I recognized. You found this in Malachi's cell, I asked. frowning. This and a few others looks to me like he's made a friend. We've been running checks on various cells while the occupants were otherwise either subdued or out. Boken, Kayla, lay, Darren. The list goes on. If it was any one of them, they weren't dumb enough to keep the evidence, although I can't imagine any of them would be smart enough to pull this off either.

I looked over the contents of the note again, before shaking my head. Any idea how they even pulled it off? If I knew that, you'd be on your way home by now. The warden said, I've had Malachi sent to room 205. I'm hoping you can get something out of him. Well, I'm honored to have your trust, I replied, before I glanced back at my computer and closed out my report. This was far more important. I'll see what I can do. The best way to describe Malachi would be to call him a stereotype. I knew vampires. Hell, I worked with

him. Aside from being a little bit pale, it was hard to tell that anything was immediately off with them. It was always little things, like the occasional glimpse of a fang, or watching them in the sirens we worked with queue around the blood microwave in the lunchroom, because most of them didn't like to drink it cold. According to one of my coworkers, the microwave did not improve the taste. Malachi, on the other hand, looked like Count Orlock. If Count Orlock had spent the past five hundred years smoking obscene amounts of crack, he was pale, Bald, and looked more like a scrawny goblin than a man.

Side by side, I couldn't immediately tell you the difference between him and some of the ghouls we kept for research purposes. Unlike Kayla, he wasn't allowed to sit comfortably in a chair in the interview room. Oh no. Malachi was wheeled in Hannibal Lecter style, strapped to a hand truck with a mask over his mouth. Security would have put him in a straight jacket too if he wasn't. isn't capable of tearing his way out of it, so reinforced handcuffs had to suffice.

He was set up on the far side of the interview room, his bare chest rising and falling, as his sunken, beady eyes watched the door as if he had every intention to pounce as soon as I walked through it. Two security guards flanked him, each armed with shotguns. Vampires are a little easier to put down than most legends suggest. A stake to the heart or decapitation will do the trick, but so will a shotgun blast at close range, especially if you aim for the head or chest. The warden walked with me into the observation room, folding her hands as she set eyes upon that

wretched beast. I could see the clear look of disgust on her face. How much time do you think you'll need? I'll start with fifteen minutes and see how it goes, I replied. I took a deep breath before moving towards the door. I could fuel the warden watching me as I went through and stepped into the brightly lit room with Malachi. The second he saw me, I could see his breathing getting heavier.

Behind his mask, I could see his cracked lips curling into a manic grin. Hello there, doctor. Late night tonight. His voice was about as skeevy as it could get. He sounded more like a strung out drug addict than a vampire. I took a seat at the desk and set my clipboard in front of me. Good evening, Malachi. You're looking well.

Well, I'm looking well. You lock me in this hell, starve me for decades. And then you tell me. I look well. Funny. It's your own fault you're in here, Malachi. And for how much longer? A decade? A century. Or does that scheming horror intend to keep me locked in here forever? Feeding me tainted blood until I finally die? You want to know how I feel? Sick to my stomach. In more pain than I've ever been and then of course she decided to wheel me out here to harass me one last time his beady eyes shifted towards the two-way

mirror behind me she's watching me isn't she she's hiding behind the glass just like she always is sipping on fresh blood no doubt in my pain, reveling in her so-called victory. Hello, Elizabeth. How does it taste? Okay, okay, let's focus, shall we? Send the whore in. Have her ask me her questions face to face.

Uh, yeah, Warden Parker is preoccupied right now. You're dealing with me, Malachi. Now, why don't we get to the matter at hand? the messages we found in your cell. Malachi spat out of the desk. Go and get the whore then. I'll speak to her, not to anyone else. And just like that, I remembered why I didn't like dealing with this guy.

I've got a special message for Elizabeth Parker from William Carrington himself. I'd appreciate the opportunity to deliver it to her. before he shows up to rip a pretty head off her shoulders is William Carrington the one who sent you these messages I asked oddly he's not a man and would not waste his time on the likes of me anymore I'm already dead besides I have other friends newer friends I think you might like him doctor why don't you tell me about your new friend," I said. What kinds of things do you two talk about?

You are very nosy, aren't you? You've stripped me of me dignity, starved me, and now you feel the need to supervise my personal correspondences. Where does it end? The FRB has been very accommodating to you, ever since you were taken into custody, that you chose not to consume your blood rations is not the fault of the faculty here nor is it the fault of warden parker pig's blood malachi snarled jerking forward against his restraints the guards raise their weapons ready to shoot him if need be I can smell it

disgusting rotten swine blood you can't even be bothered to let me drink drink from the source where it's warm and alive. What does Elizabeth drink, I wonder? That same swill, or does she trounce about outside, taking home prey to feed on in private? The dining habits of Warden Parker aren't what we're discussing here? Aren't they? Have you ever asked her if she'd like to sink her teeth into you? I'll bet she's fighting back the urge to take her

take a bite every time she sees one of you walk by her cozy little office. I could almost sense the warden's rage growing stronger behind the two-way mirror. I had a feeling that Malachi could too. If it's human blood you're after, then perhaps we can make a deal. How about you give us a little more information on your new friend, and then we'll put blood on the table? Are you offering, doctor? right here, right now."

There was a mocking playfulness in his tone that I didn't appreciate. Unless it's fresh from the source, it's useless to me. Give me a live pig before you give me cold dead blood. It makes me sick. It's killing me. You know, we can't do that, Malachi. Then you've got nothing to offer me. Unless...

He trailed off, as if you were thinking, Perhaps there is one thing. And just what might that be? I traveled to Paris in 1800, you know. Perhaps 1850. My traveling companion at the time picked up the most splendid prostitute. I've always regretted not getting to taste her for myself. Why don't you ask Elizabeth if she remembers any of her old trick?

Thoreau time's sake." That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The door to the interview room flew open. The warden shot past me, pulling her gun out of its holster and placing it against his forehead. With good as my witness, if you say one more word you won't live through tonight, she growled. Malachi just grinned at her, barely even flinching. at the sight of her gun. Hello, Elizabeth.

Your new outfit doesn't look as nice as what you wore that night in Paris. The cowboy look doesn't suit you. Well, the emaciated corpse look suits you just fine, she replied coldly. You think so? You should really try it sometime. The warden lowered the gun. Her expression still filled with a cold, hatred that seemed almost out of place on her.

Dr. Barry, please note that since Malachi has refused to consume his blood rations, he will no longer be receiving them. I'd also like to put in a formal request with Director Amanda Spencer for his termination. I quietly took note of what she'd said, as Malachi, continued to stare her down. Termination? After all this time? You've become a security risk.

You can either cooperate, or I'll personally have you executed. Final offer. He chuckled before shaking his head. Well, at least it's a way out. A bullet to the head might be far more merciful than the sickness you've given to me. So for that, I'll have to thank you.

Farewell, Elizabeth. It was nice seeing you again." The warden just shook her head before turning away from him and heading back for the door. I got up and followed her as the guards prepared to wheel Malachi out again. That could have gone a lot better, I said, once we were back in the observation room. Perhaps. At the very least, we'll see. soon have a sale free?" She replied plainly.

You're seriously just going to execute him? As a matter of fact, I am. As I said, he's a security risk. If he won't disclose the name of his associate, we'll just send his letters off for analysis and see what that gets us. He's of no further use to us. It wasn't normal to hear the warden speak in such a cold tone of voice. Something about it actually scared me a little.

What about William Carrington? That has to mean something, right? It's a taunt. Nothing more. Carrington's no longer a factor. He died back in 1946. I saw to that myself. My brow furrowed.

Why would Malachi mention him then? The warden fell silent. I could see her debating whether or not. to fill me in on the details. Carrington was an influential vampire. He was powerful, ambitious, and very, very old. I imagine he was the one who sired Malachi, and he was eventually the one who sired me as well. So he's the one who made you. Exactly. Like I said, he was He's long dead. I was there. I watched him burn and the other vampires who were with me that day are still alive and well. Carrington never survived. He never came back for revenge. No matter what Malachi says, he's nothing but a forgotten pile of ashes scattered in the wind. That's all you need to know. I think the only thing we learned from that interview was that Malachi says, he's nothing but a forgotten pile of ashes scattered in the wind. That's all you need to know. I think the only thing we learned from that interview was that Malachi,

that Malachi will say whatever he has to, to get a reaction. Even that bitching about his rations making him sick, she scoffed and disgust. Just a vain attempt to garner pity. Killing him is for the best. I was silent for a moment. Before finally nodding. Maybe she was right. I've never liked the idea of killing anything or anyone, but in Malachi's case, an exception probably needed to be made. And then the door to the observation room flew open, and one of the guards who'd been with Malachi burst in. Warden, there's been an issue. Her head was up in an instant. What? What's going on? The prisoner, ma'am, he just started. Come on, it's easier if I show you.

They ducked back into the interview room and out the door that led to the cells. Malachi wasn't far. He was still propped up on his hand truck, although black blood seemed to dribble from his mouth. His body was shaking violently, and his eyes had rolled up into his skull. The other guard was trying to hold him still, although he only barely managed. Ma'am, he just started convulsing. And the blood. As soon as it was mentioned, a fresh torrent of blackish blood poured out of Malachi's mouth.

He seemed to retch and struggle to breathe for a moment, before whimpering in pain. Ma'am? The guard called. Ma'am! What do we do? The warden stood still, staring at Malachi, unsure of what to make of this. I could see her choosing her response carefully, although when she spoke, What she said shocked me. Get him back to his cell now.

Ma'am? The guard asked, clearly confused. I said now. Warden. He's puking up blood and convulsing. I said. We need to send him to medical. Medical.

For him. He doesn't get sick. He's faking it. If he was faking it, he was doing a damn. Good job. His breathing seemed heavy and labored. His body twisted in on itself as he retched, spilling more black blood out onto the floor. I was sure I saw actual fear in his eyes. This doesn't look fake, one of the guards said. Warden, come on. I could see her second guessing herself. She remained still, trying to go through her options as quickly as possible,

before shaking her head and swearing under her breath. Goddammit. Fine. Get him to medical and keep a damn gone on him at all times. The guards didn't need to be told twice. On her order, they immediately hauled Malachi down the hall towards the medical wing. I followed at a jog, watching as his conditions seemed to get worse. Drul ran down the corners of his mouth. His body jerked violently against his restraints. The medical wing beneath Ashurst is used for staff more often than prisoners, but it wasn't unheard of for some emergencies to be treated there. Given the late hour, there was only a skeleton crew on by the time we got Malachi in, but they moved quickly. He was moved

to one of the rooms reserved for inmates, a specialized, reinforced cell that keeps them sectioned off from the rest of the patients. The guards followed him in, as did I. By, through the window of the cell, I spotted the warden watching us. Her expression was difficult to read, suspicion, confusion, and more than a little concern. I doubt the latter was for Malachi. I let some of the nurses and guards handle him. This was more their field anyway. Instead, I went to check on her.

This doesn't make any sense, she said under her breath. Vampires don't usually get sick. Usually, I asked. She didn't reply. Look, I don't want to play devil's advocate, but maybe he was telling the truth about feeling sick earlier. I don't know. That's possible, right? She just shook her head.

I'm going to call Dr. Burr. Have him take a look at this. Make sure it's nothing infectious. Keep an eye on him. He moves in a way you don't like and we go into lockdown." Yeah, yeah, of course, I said. And then the warden took off. Malachi was certainly moving all right, but his agonized twitches and the occasional dribble

of blood from his mouth looked anything but malicious. I saw his head tilt to the side as if he were out of energy, and a lump of bloody flesh fell from his mouth. It took me a moment to realize that it was probably his tongue. I swore under my breath and went for the door of the cell, unlocking it and stepping outside. Anything I can do to help? I asked. I'd say we've got this under control for now. One of the nurses checking over him replied. Is Warden Parker calling anyone in? Yeah, yeah, Dr. Burr, I think. He's a vampire, right? So he'll know what's going on?" The nurse didn't reply.

Instead, I watched as she moved to lift Malachi's head to set a pillow underneath it. His convulsions didn't seem quite as bad now. Maybe that was a good thing. Unlike the guards, nobody was trying to restrain him this time, and the two guards who'd kept an eye on him had retreated to the far wall just to watch him. Have you ever seen this before? Not on a vampire, no. No, the nurse said. We'll wait on Dr. Burr. We'll see what he says. She looked up to speak

to the other nurse in the room, although whatever she was going to say, she never got the chance. Malachi's uncuffed hand shot up, seizing the other nurse by the throat. With one sudden, violent push, he hurled her towards the two guards who'd been escorting him, dashing them together and sending them all to the floor. I leapt back a step, watching as Malachi tore at the straps keeping him secured to the truck. They snapped as if they were made of licorice. His mouth was stained with blackish blood, but a manic grin had crossed his lips as he sat up. The nurse shrank back, but with lightning speed, he seized her by the shirt and pulled her closer to him.

With his other hand, he pulled the mask off his face and opened his mouth. I could see sharp fangs awaiting the poor girl and she could do nothing but scream as he tore into her throat, letting out a moan of satisfaction as her blood filled his mouth. I stumbled backwards, crashing against the door of the cell and blindly trying to open it. But in my panic, I couldn't find the button. My eyes remained trained on Malachi and his sudden, miraculous recovery. He sighed contently as he swallowed his first mouthful of the nurse's blood before carelessly tossing her into the ground.

Her body was twitching, and she struggled to press a hand to her throat to try and stop the bleeding. Behind him, the guards struggled to get to their feet. of them grabbed their shotgun and desperately tried to take aim only for Malachi to rush them and rip it from their hand. He cast it aside like a child's toy before pressing one bare foot on the throat of the second guard. Still grinning his horrible blood-stained grin, Malachi seized the first guard by the head and forced them to their feet. His palms rested on either side of their skull before he began to apply pressure. And as he did, I could hear the guard begin

to scream. I've never watched somebody die before, and I never once thought I'd ever see somebody die so horribly. I'll never forget the way their face contorted as he crushed their skull with his bare hands before tossing the corpse aside like it was nothing. The guard beneath his foot tried to escape. They clawed at his leg, digging their nails into his flesh as he crushed their throat. Malachi hardly even seemed to notice them, though. He just kept the pressure on until their neck finally snapped. Instead, his attention turned to the nurse he'd hurled at the guards. Finally! I thought I heard him say, although without a tongue,

his words sounded garbled and wet. Thwe... With almost blinding speed, he seized the woman by her hair and forced her up to his level. And then he sank his teeth into her throat. And unlike the other nurse who was still fighting for her life, he wasn't just looking for a taste this time. He pinned the struggling woman up against the wall. greedily downing, messy mouthfuls of her blood.

She tried to push him off of her. She tried to struggle. But I could see her movements rapidly growing weaker, and in less than a minute or two, her body went limp. Ah! Malachi let the body drop and cracked his neck. He surveyed the three corpses he'd left in the room before glancing between me and the wounded nurse.

I knew that it was an easy decision for him on who to attack next. I spotted a discarded shotgun on the floor nearby. I knew I didn't have a chance in hell of reaching it before he got me, but given the circumstances, I would have preferred to die fighting than die screaming. I moved. So did Malachi. He slammed into me before I even got close to the shotgun, displaying an incredible strength that didn't seem to fit his withered form. I could smell coppery blood on his breath as his

skeletal face hovered just inches from mine. Fleshboard. One hand forced my head back as he went in for the kill. And honestly, I was certain that was going to be it. That was how I was going to die, ripped apart by some vampire who'd faked a seizure. Kind of a sorry way to go. go out. And then I heard the gunshots. Malachi jerked backward, dropping me. Looking up, I could see the warden standing in the doorway. Her gun drawn and aimed right at him. She fired again, putting another bullet through his chest. I don't know what caliber she was using, but it put one hell of a hole in him. Immediately I scrambled out of the way, rushing to the bleeding nurse and

trying to help her keep pressure on the wound. It seemed like the only sensible thing to do at that moment. I could hear the warden's gun go off again, and again. Looking back, I watched as Malachi slumped against the far wall of the cell, leaving a trail of dark blood smeared against it. His breathing had grown heavy again, but this time there was no medical condition to fake. This time. I was sure I could hear he. him laughing. The warden glared down at him, before firing her last two bullets into his skull. They tore through it, ripping it apart and leaving nothing but pieces where it had been. It wasn't at a capitation, but it might as well have been. My debriefing took most of the night.

It was after midnight that I made it home. Needless to say, I got a day off work. I suppose I should know by now not to trust a single thing anything locked in the basement of Ashurst says to you, no matter how convincing it is. But I guess even the best of us have our slip-ups. At least only three people died. Not five. It's a small consolation, but I'll take it. Malachi's corpse was burned, as per protocol, and that was more or less the end of that.

Well, almost the end of that. There's one thing that doesn't quite make sense to me. Malachi was handcuffed from the moment that he left his cell, to the moment that he entered the cell in the medical wing. I don't think anybody knows how he got out. Well, nobody except for me. I've still got the message he received. I'm hardly a linguist, but I'd still say I did pretty good all things considered.

I don't know much about the Salonin language, other than that it's been considered dead since the 1950s. Maybe my rough translation is wrong. But if it's not, then Malachi's mysterious friend was talking about how to dislocate your wrists to slip out of handcuffs. They were giving pretty detailed instructions, too. I don't know if I can prove anything yet. But if I'm right, then I know just a little bit.

just who he was talking to. And I'll have to bring it up with her next week. If you've been following me up to this point, you'll know that Asherst is a little more than just your regular prison. Sure. Up on the surface you'll find the sort of folk who belong in a maximum security prison, serial killers, drug lords and whatnot. But down in the basement where I work, that's where you'll find a whole new breed of messed

up. Monsters, demons, Thay, Sirens. They're all real, and the worst of the worst are kept beneath Ashurst. My job is to interview some of the more talkative ones. You'd think it would be easy, but trust me, I don't think there's a more dangerous job out there. After my late night run-in with our former N-night, Malachi the Vampire, I got a week off to relax after the whole ordeal.

I just wish I could say I was actually able to relax. If you've never had a vampire fake a seizure, just so they can't even. could create enough of a scene to slip out of their restraints and finally taste some fresh blood, it's not an experience I'd recommend. Malachi's little stunt had left three of our staff dead, one staring down a new life as a vampire, and me with some brand new nightmares. Considering how close Malachi had gotten to tearing out my throat, I consider myself lucky that the warden stepped in and killed him when she did. If she'd just been a few seconds later, I might not be typing this right now.

I think it goes without saying that I'd been thinking about Malachi a lot during my time off, not just because he'd come very close to killing me. But I couldn't help but notice that there were a few things weird about how everything had gone down. I'd only been dealing with him that night, because the warden had found evidence to suggest he'd been making friends with another inmate. Considering that for the safety of the staff, we don't let certain prisoners out of their cells, that was a little concerning.

Malachi was the sort of high-risk monster, who was supposed to stay locked up at all times. He wasn't something that could be rehabilitated. The only reason he'd been kept alive was for research purposes, so he really shouldn't have been socializing with other prisoners. And yet, someone he had been kept alive. had sent him some pretty detailed instructions on how to slip out of cuffs, in a pretty obscure, dead language, no less. Salinin isn't exactly a language that people spend a lot of time talking about. It's native to an indigenous people from California. Some records I've pulled, placed Malachi

in the region for a significant chunk of the 1700s. He'd supposedly been present during the Spanish occupation of the area. It probably wasn't a stretch, to assume he'd picked up a few new languages while he was preying on the locals. As for who else could have possibly known it? Well, that was a little bit harder to figure out. I could have spent months going through the history of every ancient inmate at the prison, trying to track their movements over the past few centuries, and I probably would have come up with nothing. Thankfully, whoever had sent that note to Malachi had left one very big clue to their identity. Out of the hundred of creatures we kept locked down in Ashurst, I only knew one who had a reputation for slipping

her cuffs. Kayla del Rio. She's a Class II siren I've been dealing with for the past little while. I wouldn't outright call her a model prisoner, but we have much worse than her locked away in Ashurst. As monsters go, she's not that much of a pain in the ass. Although if she was the one who told Malachi how to get out of his cuffs, well, I've been wrong about inmates before.

As soon as I got back from my leave, I was itching to have a little chat with Kayla about Malachi. I wasn't sure just how forthcoming she'd be with information. Everything I had to suggest she even knew Malachi existed was circumstantial at best. I could have just as easily gone and blamed any other inmate. But my gut told me that it was Kayla. I wasn't scheduled to speak with her until close to the end of the day, and I was busy enough that I didn't have time to bump her up on my list. My boss, Dr. Hendricks, was probably trying to go easy on me that day.

When I got my schedule for the week, I couldn't help but notice I had all the more well-behaved inmates booked first, the ones who were least likely to try and murder me. I can't pretend I wasn't a little relieved. After watching an emaciated vampire slaughter three people, I was happy that my first interview of the day was with a werewolf who was up for release. We mostly just talked about the strides he'd made with his anger management therapy. Maybe I just believe in people too much, but I was good and convinced that he wouldn't turn into a giant wolf just to threaten his neighbor during an argument again. I consider that progress. Then I had another siren, who'd thankfully

only been busted for reckless driving. She was only at Ashurst because it was the only prison that would take into her account her particular needs for survival and captivity. Hey, I didn't say that every inmate we had was the worst of the worst. Some are just idiots who can't be sent to a normal prison. Honestly, those are my favorites. It was during my lunch that my pager beeped with an urgent notification from Bob Hitch. Bob was the head of the research division, and any message from him was not something that could wait. New tenant to be processed. Sector 4. Lunch break had just been cut short. I just about had time to wolf down the leftover chicken I'd brought from last night before getting up. Maybe it was sloppy, but I didn't really have time to clean up.

I closed the Tupperware I'd brought and stuffed it back into my bag, then wiped off my fork and knife with a napkin so they'd be moderately clean before hurriedly stuffing them into my pockets as I got up to meet Bob. Like I said, any message from him was something that couldn't wait. A new tenant meant that something new had just been brought in. I figured I was the only guy available at the moment to do an incoming interview while they got the cell ready. Bob was waiting for me outside the interview room when I got there. He had a bit of a sheepish smile on his face. And that alone told me that whatever was waiting for me in that room was going to be something bad. Good to see you back, Barry. How are you holding up?

Shaken, but not stirred, I replied. What have you got for me? Well, we got a class three demon. He goes by Ferris. He got booked in Denver, haunting the book. Bar scene, no idea how many victims, but you can never tell with these. Okay, so this was bad, I thought. Demons are complicated things, unlike most Faye, they aren't born the way they are.

Dryads, sirens, most werewolves, and a lot of other creatures can't help themselves. They're born into what they are. That said, unlike other entities who were born human, like ghouls, vampires, and mediums. They don't become what they are through any particular event either. Becoming a demon is a very slow process, and it starts with death. There are some old text that discuss what happens to the souls of the deceased. Considering that I've never died before, I don't know just how accurate they are, but supposedly when you die, you either go into a peaceful afterlife that's usually called the gloom or you're discarded into a not so peaceful afterlife called the abyss by all accounts the abyss is not a nice place to be if the giant centipede

god of destruction looming over it snacking on the souls of the damned isn't disturbing enough there's what becomes of the souls who wonder that hellscape supposedly something about the abyss changes a person's soul. It makes them break down and become more feral, less human. I suppose in order to get into the abyss in the first place, a person already needs to be shitty. But whatever it is about that place, it makes it all worse. The end results in a demon. A hungry, cruel husk of what used to be a person who was already bad enough to end up in hell and if one of them finds a way to slip out of the abyss well that can be a real problem the weaker demons aren't that much different than a ghoul or some other shambling monster dangerous and terrifying to

look at sure but nothing to write home about it's the more powerful demons that you need to watch out for the ones who know how to look human they're the ones who move about in plain sight looking for fresh meat to devour. Then when they zero in on their target, they pull them into a darkness that conceals them from everyone who could be watching, and they feed. They can do it on a busy street, and nobody would notice. They wouldn't hear the screams, or the crunch of bone. They would know anything was awry until after the demon had long since slipped

away, not even leaving a body behind to mourn. Of all the horrible things that exist in this world, I don't think any of them scare me more than demons. So what are you hoping to get out of him? I asked Bob. I know the trepidation in my voice was clear, and I could see a flash of sympathy in his eyes. Well, the names of victims would be nice, but I'm not going to hold down any hope, he said. Get a feel for him, I guess. Keep him talking. Maybe he'll slip up and give us something.

He didn't sound confident. But who was I to argue? I caught myself taking a deep breath to steal myself for what was going to be waiting for me on the other side of the door. I knew it was probably going to look and sound human. It wouldn't drop its facade for me. Just because it got caught.

It was probably going to try and convince me to let it out or something. I dealt with these things before. I knew how it went. It never got easier, though. You good? Bob asked. Yeah. Yeah, I'm good.

Let's go have a chat with it. Bob nodded before scanning his keycard at the door and opening it for me. And together we stepped into the observation room. A two-way mirror looked out on an empty interview room, lit by pale fluorescent lights. On one side of it was a bulletproof glass cell that took up the space where a chair for the entity I was interviewing would be. There was space on either side for an armed guard to be stationed. The setup was routine, save for one little detail.

There was nobody in the cell, and no guards at their stations. I felt my heart skip a beat as I drew closer to the two-way mirror, looking out at the interview room with wide eyes. Where the hell is he? Oh no. Bob's voice was shaking. Looking back over at him, I saw that the color had almost drained from his face. I'd only been at Ashurst for a few months, but that was long enough to know that Bob

is not a man who scares easily. They can't scare easily if you're working this job. No. He shook his head before running for a nearby wall where the security alarm was. Ashurst is littered with big red security buttons, just in case of any incidents. They were standard in every interview room, but I'd never seen what happened when one was pressed before. Bob pulled back the plastic casing that covered the alarm and pounded his fist down on it.

A deafening alarm began to sound. Bob pulled the radio from his belt and ushered me out of the rum, grabbing me by the hand as he pulled me down the hall back towards the lunchroom. Parker, this is Hitch. We've got a code red, inmate out of containment, a class three demon. I'm initiating lockdown now and demanding all non-security personnel fall back to checkpoint alpha. A static-y voice replied over the radio, one that I recognized as belonging to Warden Parker. Understood, Hitch. Sending in security. Even through the static, I could hear the graded concern in Parker's voice.

Bob and I sprinted down the hall as a mechanized voice spoke over the intercom. Lockdown, engaged. All non-security personnel rally at checkpoint Alpha. I could see other members of the research team leaving their offices and moving at a run down the hall in the same direction we were going. Some of them looked calm. Others didn't. I suppose it was easy to tell who'd seen this before, and who hadn't. Lockdown, engaged. All non-security personnel rally at checkpoint Alpha.

I'd been briefed on the security protocols in the event of a code read. Every member of the staff had, we needed to know them inside and out. In the event of an inmate getting out of containment, all non-security personnel were to regroup in a designated safe room. It was the only room in the Ashurst complex that could hold everyone inside. Security would split into several teams. One would accompany the staff, the rest would sweep the prison. I knew that power to the elevator had been shut down, and the elevator shaft itself had been sealed the moment that Bob had hit the security alarm. We'd all be stuck down here until security dealt with a threat.

As we moved down the hall, I could have sworn I saw one woman moving against the crowd, some idiot who thought something they'd forgotten was more important than their safety. I paused for a moment to yell out to them. Come on, we've got a security breach. The woman looked back at me, and as she did, I felt my blood run cold for a moment. I only got a quick look at her face, but I could have sworn I was looking at Kayla. Before I could say anything else, I felt Bob grabbing me by the shoulder. He yanked me away towards the safe room.

The woman I'd seen turned and continued down the hall in the other direction, quickly disappearing amongst the others who were rushing for safety. I was ushered into the safe room along with the rest of the staff. I could see Dr. Hendricks there already with most of my coworkers. Warden Parker was speaking with a member of the security team and Bob left me to run up and join her. I glanced over at the door as security glanced into the hall to confirm that everyone was safely inside before they sealed the door.

Do you have any idea how it got out? I could hear the warden asking over the anxious whispers. of the rest of the staff. No, it was gone when Barry and I went inside, Bob said. My guess is that it's somewhere around sector four disguised as a member of security. Then I need the names of the people who were on its security detail. We need this contained right now. Put me in touch with the outside security.

I want to know what's happening out there, second by second. The warden ushered Bob into a small side room and left the door open. I pushed through the crowd to get closer to them. Maybe I was being presumptuous, but I wanted to know what was going on as badly as they did. Go back with the rest of the staff, Barry. The warden said, without even looking up to acknowledge me, she was hunched over a small computer with a full map of the facility. I could see numerous dots spread out amongst the different sectors.

Some were green and moving. Others were purple and stationary. Considering that the purple dots seemed to be where the cells were, I figured they belonged to the prisoners. With all due respect, ma'am, Bob involved me here. I want to know what's going on, and if I can help. That was an order, Barry. Let him stay, Bob said. God knows we could probably use a hand right now. The warden just huffed and smoothed down her fiery red hair. She didn't make another word of protest. I took that as acceptance of my presence. The blue dots moved through the corridors of the prison and I heard static over the radio

on the warden's belt. This is Johnson. Second Squad, Sector 1 looks clear, ma'am. Acknowledge, Johnson. Keep your eyes peeled. We're still on cold red. You see anything you'd all. like shoot to kill."

Bob folded his arms, his expression remaining stern and stoic. The warden's radio crackled again. Klein, fifth squad, sector six is clear. Appleby, third squad. We're all good in sector two. Ferris disappeared in sector four, Bob said. Who's in there? Looks like it's sixth squad.

The warden replied. Give them a minute, let them check through. She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she stared at the screen. It took me a moment to figure out why. Every other cluster of green dots had six, six guards patrolling the area, but the one in sector four only looked to have four. The warden picked up her radio again. Six squad status report.

There was a crackle of static over the radio, but nothing else. Six Squad, come in. This is Boy Six Squad. Came a voice over the radio. Having technical issues. Sector seems clear, but we're continuing our sweep. The warden didn't seem convinced. Boys, how many are in your squad right now?

Six, ma'am. I'm reading four transponders. Technical issues, ma'am. Acknowledged, boys. How's your team on matches? We use lighters, ma'am. And those are better? Until they go wrong.

I saw a bit of relief pass over the warden's face. She sank down a little bit, then shook her head. I understood the passphrase she was using. It was something else that every member of the staff needed to learn, pass phrases to prevent anything from assuming. from assuming the shape of and passing itself off as a staff member. It wasn't something any inmate, especially a brand new one, would know. They're fine, she said.

We'll keep a close eye on him. Our demon friend probably got spooked by the lockdown and tried to hide. So do we just wait him out? I asked. We've got the supplies down here to last us six months if needed, and if necessary, we have an Evac plan. We'll be fine." Bob assured me. Just get comfortable, Barry. We're going to be here for a while." He patted me on the shoulder, and I nodded before heading back to rejoin the rest of the staff.

I could fuel a sinking feeling in my stomach as I left the warden and Bob to their work, but that was more about the concept of potentially being stuck down there for a while, as opposed to anything else. Maybe it was childish, but the idea of just waiting out this bug hunt seemed more exhausting than anything else. I spotted Dr. Hendricks and one of our co-workers, Christina, sitting on a bend and talking quietly amongst each other, and I briefly considered joining them before deciding against it. Some other members of the staff had gotten into the food supply already, and were passing out dried banana chips and bottled water.

I figured that eating something couldn't possibly make me feel any worse, so I queued up in line to get some for myself. Most of the rest of the staff had splintered off into their own little groups and talked quietly amongst each other. A member of security was in a storeroom just beneath us, checking the inventory for bed rolls and water. In the distance, I could hear the faint alarm outside in the hallway, and the reality of the situation that we were in hit me hard. I'd never actually thought I'd see the day I'd end up in this situation. Sure, I'd been briefed on the possibility of it back when I'd started. Bob had shown me the procedures to follow and everything, but he'd also told me that he'd only

needed to activate Code Red and move everyone into the safe room once before, during a drill. Maybe it was a little arrogant of me to think that nothing would ever happen, and it was juvenile to be upset now that it was happening. And I was facing the possibility of being stuck in a cell of my own for the foreseeable future, but I digress. Regardless of how the situation made me feel, this was the reality I currently had to face. Once I got my banana chips and water, I looked over towards Dr. Hendrix. Christina was gone. I didn't see her anywhere nearby, but I didn't dwell too much on it either. I moved to sit down beside Hendricks, sighing and rubbing my temples as I did.

What a day, huh? He laughed humorously. You're telling me, he replied. Any word on when they're going to find this thing? Nope. It's still probably in sector four, but who knows? Maybe it hauled ass straight for the elevator and is already topside. That's what I'd do, Hendricks said. I offered him a banana chip.

He hesitated for a moment before taking one. Any idea what got out? A demon. A new inmate, I said. I was going with Bob to process it when we found the cell empty. My guess is, it figured out how to dupe the guards, ate them, and then disguised itself as one. It'll make it a hell of a lot harder to find if that's the case, that's for sure. Even harder if it's smart enough to hide.

Hendricks nodded thoughtfully. before staring out at the rest of the staff. Where would it hide anyways? How many cameras are in here? It'd be hard to find a place that isn't on camera, I said. Maybe the bathrooms. That's about it. Again he nodded, and I went quiet.

Why was Hendricks of all people asking how many cameras were in here? The question seemed off. I surveyed the others in the safe room around us, subconsciously looking for Christina. Did they say when they were going to get us out? Hendricks asked. It can't be long, a few days at most. Well, we've got enough supplies to last us six months down here. I replied, looking back over at him. Speaking of which, I could use a smoke.

You got a match? Sorry, all out." Hendricks replied sheepishly. He smiled at me, but I couldn't help but think it looked just a little nervous. His eyes met mine, and as they did, I could see a quiet realization in them. With just one look, we both understood everything we needed to understand about each other. He knew that I wasn't really asking for a light. I knew that he wasn't really Dr. Jason Hendrix.

Suddenly, the space around me seemed so much darker. I looked around again. The staff around us was still moving, but they seemed dimmer. Almost far away, so far they wouldn't see what would happen to me. Hendrik's face began to change. His features seemed to fade away into something. darker and less detailed. A blank, black slate that looked charred and infected. With a panicked cry, I leapt away, falling off the bench and onto the floor as Hendricks slowly stood up. He didn't say a word

to me. We were past the point of conversation. What he was doing was no doubt in self-defense. I knew what he was. And if he didn't kill me, I'd make sure that somebody killed him. The demon, Ferris, his body began to split open vertically from head to torso. I could see a reddish pink maw opening up in him, like a horrific Venus flytrap of flesh. Rose upon rows of teeth awaited me in that gnashing mouth and I knew he'd swallow me whole in an instant. No. Was the only thing I could think to say? I tried to scramble back, but Ferris loomed over me, shambling closer and closer. His rancid breath exuded over me.

The smell was that of death. Christine's death. Hendrik's death? My death. He overtook me, his arms seizing me by the shoulders as he forced my head towards his mouth. Desperate. I could feel the weight of my lunch utensils in my pocket. It wasn't much of a means of defense, but it was the only thing I had.

I pulled the fork I'd carelessly jammed into my pocket earlier out. It wasn't much, just a simple stainless steel fork, but he would have to do. Without thinking, I thrust it into the pinkish flesh of Ferris's mouth. The fork tore through, drawing rotten black blood and earning an angry snarl from Ferris as he recoiled. His grip on me slipped just long enough for me to wiggle out of his grasp. I could see his body pulsating in pain as he ripped the fork from his mouth. He huffed in frustration before collapsing down to all fours and loping after me.

But I'd bought myself just enough time to get up and run. I sprinted towards one of the dim figures nearby. Another staff member, somebody whose name I didn't remember off the top of my head. but he was my only salvation. I slammed into him, tackling him to the ground and praying it would be enough to break whatever illusion Ferris cast to keep the others from seeing me as he fled. As I hit him, the world suddenly seemed less dim. Ferris was almost on top of me, his hands grabbing at my body as he began to force me into his maw. This was it? I'd shot my shot. I'd made my one attempt at escape.

Now I could only hope it would be enough. I didn't need to wait long for either death or salvation. Before Ferris could sink his teeth into me, he was violently pulled back. I could see the white coats of other members of the research team grabbing at him, pulling him away from me. It took almost eight people to hold them back, and his jaws gnashed violently all the while. But when they slam shut, they didn't slam shut on me. Ferris snarled and struggled.

He writhed violently, shaking his captors off of him, but he did so in plain sight, in full view of everyone. I watched as he threw some of the research team who was holding him back off of him and led out an enraged screech. Then came the gunshots. His body jerked as it was hit. But he didn't fall. Looking back, I could see that just about every member of security was up and had their guns drawn and aimed at him.

The people who'd pulled Ferris off of me quickly abandoned him, giving him a wide berth as security lit him up. Bullet after bullet tore through his body, leaving their marks, but hardly slowing him down. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Warden Parker had rushed to their side. her own gun drawn and firing on Ferris. He was tough. All demons are. But they aren't invincible. Ferris seemed to fall backward, riddled with bullets.

His limbs flailed violently as he struggled to hold onto his life. Maybe if he'd been anything other than a monster, I might have felt bad for him. But his security continued to unload into him while he squirmed on the ground. I felt nothing but relief. His struggles quickly ceased. His breathing was heavy and sporadic. I'm not sure just how many bullets he'd taken. 20, 30, 40.

Far more than any living thing should be able to survive. And yet he still clung to life, struggling to continue to live, up until he exhaled his last breath and dribbled more blood under the growing pool on the floor. I could feel Bob's hand on my shoulder, reaching down to help me up. And on trembling legs, I stood. You good? he asked, real concern in his voice. I nodded before looking down at Ferris. He was disguised as Dr. Hendrix.

I think he ate Christine too. I... My words failed me. I was still trying to process all of this. and yet doing it felt impossible. I suddenly felt exhausted, as if I wanted another week to sleep. Hell, after this, maybe I'd get it too. Demons don't leave behind corpses.

They eat everything. The bones, the clothes, the hair, all of it. The fact that we never found the bodies of Dr. Hendricks or Christina, almost certainly confirmed their fate. I later learned that a review of the security camera footage from that day revealed that Ferris had ambushed Dr. Hendricks in his office right before Bob had tripped the alarm. Even in the safe room, we would have caught it eventually.

Ferris had been a rat in a trap the moment he'd been brought to Ashurst. But if I hadn't been able to save myself from him, who knows how many others he would have picked off. before anyone figured out what he was. The warden offered me a few more days off. I appreciated the offer, but I declined. Part of me wants the time to myself, but I don't think I can take it in good faith right now. Now that the incident with Ferris is over,

I can't help but think about what I thought I saw in the hallway while Bob was ushering me into the safe room. I'm sure that I saw Kayla. I'm sure that she was out of her cell. I know that sounds impossible. I know that if she'd been out, it would have shown up on the warden's monitor. But I know what I saw. I can't prove it yet, but something tells me that Kayla had something to do with Ferris getting out.

I'm already certain she had something to do with Malachi's attack the other week. So was it really that much of a stretch? I don't think it is. Most of the things we keep down in Asherst aren't all that smart. Ghouls are little more than feral people, cursed by the Faye into madness. Demons are just hungry beasts, and even the most elusive of them can't escape their nature. Even the more intelligent creatures like Faye and vampires aren't smart enough to get far in their escape attempts. The recent incidents with Malachi and Ferris hadn't shaken those beliefs.

Malachi had been killed within minutes of his attempted escape, and Ferris hadn't gotten all that far either, even after disguising himself to look like one of our research team. Their near escapes weren't what bothered me. The fact that both had come very close to killing me wasn't what bothered me either, although both had given me my fair share of nightmares. No. What bothered me was the fact that their escapes seemed coordinated, planned. A demon like Ferris would have been under high security.

Escaping should have been next to impossible. But he got out all the same. Maybe it was just human error, but that seemed like a stretch. And then Malachi. I could have chalked his escape up to bad luck if it hadn't conveniently happened right after we'd figured out another inmate. had found a way to slip him coded messages, in a dead language, coded messages, that according to my rough translation, told him just how to dislocate his wrists, to slip out of his

cuffs. The fact that both of these incidents had happened within roughly a week of each other was even more suspicious. I believe in coincidence, but there's a very clear line between coincidence and an emerging pattern. I would have been an idiot to ignore it, especially when both incidents had one clear thing in common. Kayla. I was certain that I'd seen her out of her cell, walking the halls during the lockdown

when Ferris had gotten out. I was damn near positive. She'd walked right by me as I'd been headed to the safe room with the rest of the staff. I'd also taken the time to check what records we had on her. They were spotty. It's hard to track anything that's lived. for a few hundred years. Most Faye, especially Sirens, are basically ghost in the first place, and the records get harder and harder to find the further back you go. But I found enough

to make a case for Kayla being around California at the same time Malachi had been. From there, was it that much of a stretch to suggest that they might have both preyed on the Selenian people in the area and picked up some of the language? Hell? Was it that much of a stretch to suggest that they might have both preyed on the Selenian people in the area? And picked up some of the language? Hell? Was it? even a stretch to suggest that two bloodsuckers active in the same area at the same time, were at least aware of each other. Maybe. But I didn't think so.

What evidence I had was circumstantial, I'll admit it. The lack of anything solid was the only thing that kept me from barging into Warden Parker's office. While I struggled to imagine her not taking this seriously, I wanted something irrefutable. for no other reason than to cover my ass. I figured, if she was really up to something, then it wouldn't be that hard to find some evidence of it. Like I said before, the security at Ashurst is tight. No matter what game Kayla was playing, she couldn't slip through it all unscathed. There had to be something. Even if it was just something small, one little

inconsistency to support my theory. Something that wasn't based on something I might have seen or unreliable records on where she might have been 300 years ago. Something solid. And I knew just where to start looking. Pete was one of those work friends you sometimes have. The kind of man you'd sit by at lunch and talk to, then never see again for the rest of the day. From what I knew about him, he was an all right guy, easy going and upbeat. He talked aloud about his two kids, and he had video after video of them to share. I'd say they were boring, but I found it kind of heartwarming just how much he seemed to love him.

He spent just about his entire day locked up in the security office with his co-workers, watching the cameras. They were just as laid back as he was, and once or twice I caught the smell of beer on him. I'm sure Warden Parker wouldn't have approved, but so long as they did their jobs right, she probably left him alone. He was more than happy to let me spend my early lunch break in the security office. While technically, nobody except the guys who watched the cameras are supposed to be in there, they'd occasionally bend the rules and Pete bent them often.

I was always a little surprised that he had the balls to play things as fast and loose as he did. If Warden Parker ever found out, she'd probably have gone into an unholy fury. But he kept the low enough profile to not invoke her wrath. Pete was nice enough to let me go through the tapes from the day of Ferris's escape. I set myself up at a small computer in the back corner of the room, barely touching the ham sandwich I'd brought in, and worked quietly. As payment, I didn't notice the six-pack of beer he took out of his desk, although I declined

when he offered me a can. "'Suit yourself, man,' he said with a shrug, before opening a can and taking a long drink. After that, he left me to my work as I poured over the footage, starting with a camera feed from Kayla's cell. At a glance, nothing was out of place. Kayla was laying on her stomach in the shallow pool we provided sirens to soak in. Her head and arms jutted over the edge, as she casually played solitaire with some waterproof cards. She only occasionally looked up towards the glass wall that separated her from the staff with a mild disinterest before looking back down. All in all, nothing seemed out of place. I brought her to her.

I brought up the footage from the hallway I'd seen her in next. On the screen, I could see myself and Bob running up the hallway towards the safe room. I watched for the part where I'd seen a woman dressed as one of the research staff walking in the other direction. The woman I'd been so sure was Kayla. Sure enough, the woman was right there in the screen. She walked in the opposite direction of the fleeing staff, moving away from the safe room. I could see myself in the video, stopping her.

to call out to her. I saw her look back at me, although I couldn't get a good look at her face. The camera was too far away. Her long hair was in the way, and the footage seemed a little too grainy. I frowned before watching where the woman went. She was headed for Sector 3 from the look of it, bringing up the footage from a few other cameras. I was able to track her as she weaved through the fleeing crowds down the hallways, always moving in the opposite to direction they were. A few people seemed to notice her, but nobody stopped for long. They were out to save their own asses. It was hard to say where she was headed. She was absolutely headed to sector three, but I couldn't imagine what she wanted there. Most of that sector was for the research

team, and the few prisoners kept there were exclusively ghouls and lesser demons, feral, animalistic things that were only barely sentient. The only thing of particular interest I could think of in that area, aside from a few offices, was the server room. The server room. Maybe that wasn't. Sure enough, as I followed the unknown woman through Sector 3, it became clearer and clearer. That was exactly where she was headed. I even saw her around the corner into the hallway, where the main entrance to the server

room would be. I tried to bring up the camera footage from that hallway, although there were no files to be I picked through everything Pete had given me and turned up nothing. This made no sense. A Pete, I called. He looked over at me. Do you have the footage from Corridor 7 in Sector 3? I don't see that here.

You want Tuesday's footage? He asked. Yeah. No can do. We were running maintenance in sector 3 on that day. A lot of the cameras were down. I looked over at him. What?

Yeah, yeah, some sort of update to the system, he said with a shrug. Corridor's seven and eight were disabled, along with Dr. Henry's office, Dr. Freeman's office, and the server room. I don't know why they shut down that particular area. Everything seemed to be running fine beforehand, but Warden Parker signed off on it. My brow furrowed. Something about that seemed off to me. I wasn't entirely sure what the protocol for routine maintenance was, but it just seemed like

a huge blind spot to just have all the cameras around the server room disabled. Dr. Henry and Dr. Freeman's office would have had a view of that hallway, as would the camera in Corridor 8. It seemed far too convenient to be a coincidence. I went back to pour over the other footage Pete had given me. were a few clips where I was pretty sure I could see Kayla's face clearly, but it was nothing particularly damning. That said, I also didn't recognize the researcher I saw on the screen as anyone else. I sped ahead, looking for some sign of the mystery researcher leaving.

Sure enough, after a half hour into the lockdown, I saw someone dressed in security attire leaving the hallway. It was impossible to clearly see their head under their head. helmet, but their build seemed similar. My gut told me it had to be the same person, just in different clothes. Who else could it have been? I followed them through the halls once more, watching as they linked up with another security team in sector four. I would have expected the team to have reacted in some capacity, but they just seemed to acknowledge the new addition to their ranks and move on as if nothing was wrong, as if they knew who it was.

I went back to the footage of Kayla's cell. Seemingly the whole time the lockdown had happened. She'd been playing cards. I even checked the cameras outside of her cell in Sector 5. I could see nobody in the hallway. No, security. Nothing. I went back to tracking the security team my mystery person had joined up with,

following them through the halls. I couldn't help but notice that they were going straight towards Sector 5. Odd. They looked like they were headed for Kayla's cell. Looking again at the footage of the hallway outside her cell, I finally found what I was looking for. Nothing at all. Looking at the camera outside of Kayla's cell, I could see nothing but an empty hallway. Looking at the camera in the next hallway over, I could clearly see the security team going down that hall, and then coming back a few minutes later, one member short.

I felt an actual pang of elation at the fact that I'd actually found something, followed by a sinking discomfort. She'd been escorted back to her cell by a security team. They had to have known who she was. Whatever she was doing in sector three, it just happened to be in the area where the cameras were down for routine maintenance. And then there was the fact that there was technically no footage of her outside of her cell. I wasn't sure where the footage that had been used instead came from. Maybe from a lockdown

drill, that would have been the easiest to splice in there. But then, who spliced it in? I looked over at Pete. His eyes were off me. If it had been him, I would have expected him to be watching me a lot closer. So maybe it was another member of the security team. It had to be. They were the only ones who could have modified or deleted that footage. Although exactly who it was was impossible to be sure. At the moment, I figured it probably didn't matter. I had what I needed. Pete didn't see me emailing some of the clips to myself. He had his eyes on the five cameras, just as they should have been. I don't know if he would have cared anyway. Still, it was better to be safe. Sirens are interesting creatures. With just one look,

They can get in your head. They can hypnotize you. Make you do things. You wouldn't normally do. Usually. They just use this to keep their prey still and quiet so they can feed off their blood. But I'd heard of them using it in other ways, too. At Ashurst, the staff generally only deals with sirens while wearing protective gear,

specifically a visor that protects them, from whatever it is they can do to influence a person. But all they need is a moment of direct eye contact without that visor, and they can get in your head. Just one moment. And it's all over. You find anything? Pete asked. I looked back over at him.

Afraid not, I said with a sigh. Just a dead end. He frowned. Shit. Well, maybe that's a good thing, you know. I think it is. Thanks for letting me look around, Pete. No problem. Just give me a shout if you want to grab a beer sometime or something.

You know where to find me. I nodded at him before leaving. I needed to find someone I could trust, someone who I knew wasn't under Kayla's control. Warden Parker was the safest bet. The FRB made the right call when they put a vampire in charge of Ashurst. As far as I knew, Siren's unique abilities had no effect on VARN. Vampires like her. I suppose it shouldn't have been surprising that when I stepped by her office, the door was

closed and locked, a sign that she was already with someone. Bob Hitch leaned against the wall beside her door, probably waiting his turn to go in and speak with her. He was the closest thing to a second in command that Parker had, and he gave me a nod when he saw me. "'Morning, Barry?' he said. I nodded back at him. Morning, Bob. Is Warden Parker busy? I've got something urgent."

Very. He replied and gestured for me to take a peek through her window. I made a point to be discreet and tried to nonchalantly walk past while peeking in. I didn't get a good look at what was going on in there, but I saw enough. I could see Warden Parker at her desk, a grave expression on her face, and a familiar blonde And Perm sitting and speaking with her. Without even seeing her face, I knew who it was. Amanda Spencer, the director of the FRB, and her presence couldn't mean anything good.

I leaned against the wall beside Bob. My brow furrowed as I looked over at him. What the hell is Director Spencer doing here? Well, we've had two serious incidents. Well, almost three with your stunt with old Vikram. From what I've overheard, Spencer has some doubts about our security." You're listening in? Bob cracked a wry smile.

You wouldn't? He asked. He had me there. My guess is she's going to want to reinforce the security measures, just as a precaution. It'll be a hassle, but after Ferris and Malachi, it might be a good idea. We've had too many casualties in the past few months. That's not exactly something any of us want to hand wave. Yeah, yeah, of course.

I said, nodding. Which reminds me, aren't you supposed to be down in sector two right now? What brings you here? I looked over at Bob again. He was the head of Ashurst Research Division. Technically, he was my boss, and given how his role was more administrative, He also wasn't a man who had a lot of contact with the inmates. If there was any full human I could trust.

It was him. I was doing some digging. I think an inmate was out during the lockdown the other day. Something other than Ferris. His eyes narrowed. You're serious. Who? Kayla del Rio.

A siren we have locked down in sector five. I thought I saw her. while we were headed to the safe room the other day, so I did some digging. I know that she was out of her cell, and I've got footage to prove it." That's a damn serious accusation, Dr. Barry. You're positive, it's her. A hundred percent. His eyes locked with mine for a moment.

Before he nodded. All right, send me the footage. I want to review it, and then I'll talk to Warden Parker. Kayla, that's the one you're scheduled to talk with, isn't it? Yeah, she's my four o'clock. All right, he thought for a moment before nodding. I'll put in a request for additional security. I might also sit in on that one with you.

I'm going out on a limb and assuming you're going to try and grill her. Bob's answer caught me a little off guard. Not that I hadn't expected him to take me seriously, But the fact that he wanted to get directly involved certainly said something. Do you think I should? If she's up to something, maybe she'll slip. It can't hurt. Maybe he was right.

I nodded back at him. All right. I'll see what I can get. Good. I'll let you know what Parker says. You should get a move on. I got this handled. Bob offered a reassuring smile that was impossible not to trust.

and the sight of it made me feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I believed him, and for the first time since Malachi had slipped his cuffs, I actually felt like I was ahead in whatever game Kalo was playing. Four o'clock rolled around quickly, as I knew it would. My interviews with Kalo were usually difficult, considering how she had no interest in being forthcoming with information. But I never felt so tense at the prospect of dealing with her before. I'm not sure what it was.

Nerves, maybe. Maybe something else. But it was something that nagged at the back of my mind. That familiar anxiety that I think everyone has felt at least once in their life. Bob was waiting in the observation room when I got there, staring through the glass at Kayla, who sat relaxed in her metal chair. She'd already slipped her cuffs, and one arm was draped over the back of the metal chair, if she didn't have a care in the world.

There were no guards in the room with her, but I knew they were waiting just through the door behind her. Two more guards were with him. I don't suppose she said anything, I asked. Bob shook his head. I haven't spoken to her yet. I've looked over that footage who sent me, though. I think you're on the money.

She was out during the lockdown. His confirmation made my stomach sink. So how should we handle this? We confront her. Let her know the game's up. Maybe she'll tell us why, or if not, then at least give us something. Warden Parker is going to seek termination either way. Termination. That didn't surprise me. Kayla was obviously too dangerous to be left alive. You spoke to the warden? Of course. She's scheduled to be put down this evening. She doesn't know it yet. I'll leave it to you to break the news."

I nodded before taking a deep breath. I understand. Well then. No time like the present, I guess. I adjusted my coat and took a deep breath, stealing myself before I entered the interview room. I adjusted my visor to protect myself from her gaze. And I stepped inside.

Kayla's eyes lit up the moment she saw me, and I watched a rise. smile across her lips. Well, hey there, Dr. Barry. She said cheerfully. I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten all about me. I was on leave, Kayla. I replied as I sat down across from her. Were you now?

Did that whole business with Malachi get you too shook up? I glanced up at her. Her smile presented her razor sharp teeth in a way that made a chill run through me. I hear things through the grapevine. Folks tend to gossip. Do they? I don't imagine you hear much gossip, being isolated like you are. I can't imagine Malachi was one for conversation, I said.

The look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. Kayla was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully before she spoke. One sided, she finally said. her smile returned. Figured me out, did you? I just glared at her. Her smile didn't falter for a moment. If you're thinking I was trying to get you, I promise you that I wasn't.

On the contrary, the whole point was to get him. What do you mean? I asked. You think I wanted that bloodthirsty idiot to escape? Please. I knew he'd get him. get himself killed and cause a stir in the process. I thought it might be fun.

You wanted Malachi dead them? That's what I said, Sugar. Our paths crossed once in California some years ago. His kind hunted in our territory. Conflict was inevitable. Our mutual friend offended some of my late sisters. When I realized he was in here with me, I thought that getting him killed might be a fun. little side project, something to keep my mind occupied, you know.

Captivity's boring. What you're gonna do anyway? Arrest me. She snickered, but I stayed Stoic. Truthfully, I hadn't expected Kayla to be that forthcoming with information. For once in her life, she hadn't disappointed me, but there was still one question remaining. And the message is, did you get those to him? Ah, ah, ah, that's my secret, she said, wagging a finger. I might tell you later on, if you're good. There was the Kayla I remembered. Then why don't we talk about Ferris instead? Who? The lockdown the other day. A demon got out. Ferris. I presume you remember. Oh, that, she said with a shrug. I don't know. I was having a soak.

Were you? You know, I've seen some footage that says otherwise. I caught just the slightest twitch in her eye. A momentary flash of something, although I couldn't tell what. Surprise? Anger, perhaps. Her eyes were locked with mine. Even through the visor I wore to protect myself from her gaze, I still felt something inside

me shudder. What exactly are you talking about?" she asked. Her tone was more aggressive than before. You were out of your cell. I saw you in the hall and I've got you on camera. So far, my theory is that you somehow orchestrated Ferris's release so you could go for a walk down to the server room. Then some of your friends in security were nice enough to walk you back to your cell and

tamper with the footage to try to do. and hide the fact that you were ever gone. I know I'm missing some details, but that's about the size of it, isn't it? Her smile faded at last. Her eyes remained intently fixated on me. Can't a girl go for a walk? Not a girl like you. Not in here.

She scoffed. Well, I suppose not. Ah. Now I'm thinking about just how much I should tell. you, everything, or just enough to leave you wanting more. If it affects your decision, you've been marked for termination this evening. I imagine this is the last time we'll be seeing each other. Kayla's expression seemed calm, despite the news I just broke into her.

I caught the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips, but it faded quickly. Really now? Well, then, I guess you've got me." She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. You know, I was never the best liar. All this sneaking around. It's not my strong suit. I was always more of a hands in the mud kind of girl.

But all right, I'm gonna be good and generous tonight and tell you everything you want to know. How's that sound? Too good to be true. I replied. Her smile returned and the sight of it created a sinking feeling in my stomach. It always is, isn't it? See, y'all expect your escapees to make a beeline for the exit.

Now maybe I'm smarter than the average dumbass, but I went and figured that wasn't the best strategy. Nah, it's better to break the heater in that little puddle you people gave me to soak in. They want me sedated and blindfolded when they have to repair it. I only needed to break it twice. The first time was a test run to see what they do. The second time, I had an idea of how long the sedative would take to take effect and managed to fake passing out early.

Then I just needed a second to make eye contact with some idiot on the security team. Just one swing of your arm. those visors can come right off, especially when security thinks you're passed out. After I had my one guard, I bided my time, took this place person by person. Hell, I probably run more of this damn place than the warden right now. As she spoke, I felt dread. Kayla seemed so calm and at ease. I felt so alone.

I could feel Bob and the security team watching me from behind the glass. I knew they heard every word, and I knew they weren't coming. Kayla kept talking, simply because she could. Because it didn't matter what she told me at that moment. She knew I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Oh, I imagine that right about now they've got some doubts on the security of this place. I imagine they're going to want to fix that real soon, and to do that, it might be better if they moved some prisoners out for a little while.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but that's going to be a bitch of a process, ain't it? A lot can go wrong on the road, you know. But you and I can talk about that later. She stood up, sensually leaning against the metal table, her face inching towards mine. Relax, Doc. I ain't gonna hurt ya. No, sir. She reached out, grabbing my visor, and I let her.

Every fiber of my being told me to try and run, but I knew that the doors would be locked. I knew that neither Bob nor security would let me out. Not until she was done with me. All I could do was sit there, rooted to the spot, and feel utterly helpless. Kayla gingerly pulled the visor off my face and set it down on the table in front of me. And for the first time, I looked into the eyes of a siren, and I could feel my muscles relaxing. The room around us seemed to fade away. All I could see were those intense. Hence brown irises, and all I could hear was Kayla's soothing voice. Her hands were ice cold as they rested on my cheeks, and behind her lips, I could see jagged

teeth. I stepped out of the interview room, feeling more composed than I did when I came in. It was strange. Some deep part of me felt genuine fear. My heart was racing a thousand miles per second. My hands were still shaking. The world felt hazy and detached, as if I were drunk. My every movement seemed like my own, although something felt wrong, something that I knew

and didn't know at the same time. It was an impossible feeling to describe. Bob regarded me silently, before offering me a warm smile that didn't reach his eyes. No. His eyes said something else. Something I now understood all too well. There was an awareness in them, a knowledge that we both shared, a part of ourselves, locked away. Shut down. It was our turn to be prisoners now. I looked back at Kayla through the window. She sat still as security cuffed her again, and she wore a knowing smile on her lips. I knew that it wouldn't be long.

I wouldn't call myself an expert on the supernatural. Not by a long shot. Sure, my job has me researching the stranger things in the world. Demons, fay, vampires, sirens. But you could study them all for a lifetime and still know almost nothing about them. For example, no amount of research could tell you what it feels like to be under a siren's control. There's no way to understand the effect they have on the human mind without experiencing

it firsthand. Personally, I'd consider that a blessing, because I don't know what words I can use to describe exactly how hellish of a sensation it is. I suppose the first word that comes to mind is dreamlike, the world just passes by you. Sure, in many ways you interact with it like you normally would. After Kayla plucked the visor off my face and put me under her control, I went home that night, just like I would any other night. I listened to my usual podcast on the drive home. I watched the same TV shows I'd normally watch. I did everything I would have done, as if nothing had happened.

And yet somewhere in the back of my mind was this knowledge, this awareness, that something was off. Sometimes it fell so far into the back of my mind that I forgot it was there entirely. Sometimes it was so prominent it felt like that at any moment I might break free of it and suddenly come back to my senses. It varied from moment to moment, but it was always there in some capacity. That knowing, that God-forsaken knowing, and behind all of it rested in underlying fear that I couldn't deny even in the trance Kayla had put me in. She'd told me she wasn't going to hurt me,

that it wasn't in her best interest. She'd patted me playfully on the cheek before sitting back down in her metal interview chair. She glanced over at the camera in the corner of the rum with disinterest, before looking back at May, and pushing my visor back over. Put that back on. Let's at least keep up appearances. My hands moved automatically, putting the visor back where it belonged. Kayla's knowing smile had remained the entire time, coy and cocky.

She knew she was holding all the cards. And now, there was no need to pretend she wasn't. You should have a nice chat with Bob later. Put us into closer contact. Maybe I'll finally play nice and tell you about some of them bodies, huh?" She chuckled. Seems only right, given I'm set up to die this evening. Shit.

I really hope that don't get delayed too long. The part of my brain that was still me could feel my heart sinking a bit. She probably knew as well as I did that Bob hadn't put in any request for her termination. If he was in her pocket too, why would he? Oh, I wouldn't be so sulky. I can't see it on your face, Doc, but I can see it in your eyes. Do what I do long enough, and you can always tell. I reckon it'll be just a few more days before I'm out of your hair.

Then if I were you, I ditch the FRB while there's still time. Between you and me, I've been fixing to torch this whole stupid little op for a a few years now. God admit, this wasn't quite what I envisioned, but when life gives you some lemons, you gotta make yourself some lemonade." Torch this op. I didn't quite understand what she meant. While my body sat prone and obedient, my mind struggled to work through the haze that now filled it. She'd been in the server room when she'd slipped up, hadn't she? God only knew what she'd been looking for in there. But I had no doubt she.

she'd found it, and if she was looking to try and take down the FRB, she'd absolutely find everything she needed in the Ashurst server room. Kayla's eyes remained locked on mine, and I knew she could read my every thought. You're trying to put it all together, ain't you? Don't strain yourself? It ain't your business anyhow. Right now, your business is to keep good and quiet about who's running this place, and stop poking around so much.

Is that clear? Yes, ma'am. I replied. The words coming out of my mouth were in my voice, but they weren't my words. They were just what Kayla wanted me to say. Well, then, you and I are done here, she said, and shewed me with a wave of her hand.

We'll have a quick chat tomorrow, face to face, just to ensure you stay on the right side. But until then, you and I got nothing to talk about. Sure enough, when I got in the next day, I found an email from Bob on my computer. It was just a simple change in my schedule. I was booked to see Kayla at the end of every day for the foreseeable future, no doubt so she could ensure I stayed under her spell. She was part of my routine now.

Hell, she controlled my routine. Even now, I struggled to fully recall. call the days I spent under her control, it all seems to blend together. I don't think that at the time I was even aware of how many days had passed. Not really. Everything just blended together into a disorganized haze. I can remember some of the mundane details. Lunch with Pete, a few standard interviews with other inmates, and the inevitable encounters with Kayla that ended each and every day at work. Those encounters were thankfully always brief.

I'd go into the interview room, sit down, remove my visor, and we'd go through the motions, talking for the sake of talking, and I remember very little of what she said. Trying to pinpoint any one conversation feels like trying to remember a dream you had months after it. Only the most prominent things stick out in my mind. The rest is all either forgotten, or the same. Just white noise. I think it was about three days after Kayla took hold of me that Warden Parker called

most of the research team into one of the conference rooms. I'd say she looked more serious than usual, but that may have just been wishful thinking. The part of my mind that was still somewhat conscious, prayed she'd somehow found out about what was going on. Maybe Bob had slipped out of Kayla's control long enough to fill her in. she'd done her own investigation. If only I had such luck. I'm sorry to take you all the way from your work. I recognize that you're all quite busy and on edge, she said. Her tone was brisk, exhausted almost. She leaned against the far wall of the room, her straw cowboy hat was

sitting on the table. However, over the next few months, our schedules are due to change drastically, and I need to make sure that everyone is on the level. I think we're all well aware of the recent security incidents that have occurred and the considerable loss of life that they've caused. She let that statement rest for a moment. In the past, we've prided ourselves on the safe environment we've created for our employees. Any compromise to that environment is something I take incredibly seriously. I'm not running a chop shop here. I understand you all trust both myself and the security

of this facility with your lives each and every day. And the fact that I have failed so many of you is not something that sits well with me. That is why I've had some recent discussions with Director Spencer of the FRB. There are clearly some flaws in our security. Flaws that have recently been exploited to disastrous effect. I refuse to let that stand. So, starting Thursday, we will be making efforts to remove those flaws. The process will take some time. The renovations will be extensive to some parts of the facility, but they are necessary. Unfortunately, with work being done on the facility, we are in a weakened state. Our security may be weaker and easier to exploit during this time. To that end, the FRB has generously begun

setting up a temporary backup facility to hold the more high-risk inmates until we're back up to full strength. I've given authorization to open up the loading elevator for ease of transport. Starting Thursday and continuing over to Saturday, we will be relocating certain high-risk inmates to this backup facility until further notice. I've already briefed the security team, who will be taking on the brunt of these duties. Mr. Hitch will subsequently divide your teams as needed to ensure your work is not severely impacted, and for added security, I've signed the termination orders for several of our more dangerous inmates who may be unable to be moved. Those will be carried out over the next several days. Now, to those of you who are familiar with our procedure

for internal renovations, this is standard procedure. However, to any of you who are not fully familiar with our renovation procedures, I invite any of you with questions to come see me or Mr. Hitch. Our goal is to make this as easy on you as we can. Someone put their hand up, and the warden nodded in direction. Um, which inmate specifically will you be moving? They asked timidly. I recognize the voice as one of the newer hires. That's an excellent question.

The warden replied. Our current priority is an entity who could use the disarray caused by the renovations to slip out. Any demons and mimics who were not marked for termination will be shipped out on Thursday. has already begun to prep them. On Friday, we will be moving any fay that pose a significant risk, mostly sirens, however old Vickram will also be temporarily relocated. The silent unease that filled the room was almost audible. You move an old Vickram? Someone asked wearily. Is that even safe? Relatively,

him? Interjected Bob. He sat a short distance away from the warden, his hands folded on the table. While it doesn't kill him, Vikram takes some time to adapt to extreme cold. In a sense, we can temporarily freeze him. So long as he's kept in the proper conditions during transport, he'll be completely unconscious. We've moved him to a temporary secondary facility before with this method. So we know how it works. We've already begun to put him under and excavate access to his cell.

I assure you, old Vikram will be under heavy security during and after transport. The warden added, I'll be accompanying him myself. If he somehow wakes up and tries to get out, he'll need to go through me." That only reassured some people. As the meeting carried on, I found myself glancing over at Bob, though he appeared composed. I could see something in his eyes, a knowledge that conveyed something, and without so much as a word or a micro-expression, I understood what it was. Terror.

The kind of paralyzed terror of a man standing in front of a train as it bore down on him, the kind that leaves a person shrieking like a banshee in sheer panic. And I knew exactly what it was that terrified him. They'd be moving both Kayla and old Vikram on Friday. I didn't think that was a coincidence. I knew in my gut that Bob knew it wasn't either. Hell, maybe he'd been the one who'd arranged it. Who could say?

But I knew that whatever was doomed to happen, it wouldn't be good. I knew that. But even as the same dread that filled Bob began to well up inside of May, I couldn't do anything but listen quietly. As Warden Parker took simple questions and firmly put down every concern, she thought she was still in control. She had no idea. The days kept drifting by in a dream like haze.

During my interviews with Kayla near the end of every day, she gave me nothing. No clues towards whatever she was planning. Every time we spoke, she'd speak disinterestedly about the people she'd fed on, recalling vicious kills fondly, as if she were reliving happy memories. I count myself lucky that I can only barely remember the details, although I don't know if they just didn't penetrate the fog that filled my mind, or if I chose to forget them. The hours counted down, and I could sense it, the part of me that was trapped inside of myself, the part of me that was disoriented and aware of the truth, as I meandered through my days,

felt the moment drawing closer, and yet no matter what I thought to do, no matter what I wanted to do. I felt utterly powerless to stop it. Thursday rolled around quickly. Throughout the day, I watched them move cells with demons and mimics trapped inside, screaming and panicking visages of humans that were uncomfortably convincing and they're pleased to be released. I knew better. The entire staff did. But they still tried. Some of them were taken to taken to the loading elevator. Normally, it was completely inaccessible. The doors were hidden and could only be opened by the warden, and when not in use. The elevator shaft was sealed by a thick cement slab and buried, to prevent anything from using it to escape. I'd heard them excavating

it and seen the sight on the south side of the prison during the evenings. I could even see the pieces of the cement taken out of the shaft. When the work was was done, I knew they'd lower it all back in to assure the shaft was sealed back up. It was easier that way. The creatures that weren't taken to the loading elevator to be put on trucks were taken to Sector 2. When the cells were rolled back, they were empty. Most of the inmates they took were demons. Ashurst only had two mimics in captivity, neither of whom they could kill. Of those demons, I imagine over half of them were terminated. I didn't consider it much of a loss. Though I knew what was waiting for me,

Thursday didn't end with a bang, but a whimper. Just like any other day, I finished my work and I went home. From the parking lot, I could see bright lights and personnel around the loading elevator, but I wasn't close enough to get a better look, and some small, selfish part of me hoped that whatever would happen tomorrow. Maybe I wouldn't be part of it. Maybe Kayla would find a chance to slip off, and I'd be free. But things are never that easy, are they? Friday came as it was doomed to. I spotted Bob out in the parking lot, waiting by the door when I got there, and though

I walked towards him with a neutral expression, I couldn't help but feel a growing fear in my chest. I could tell Bob was afraid too. Morning, Barry? His tone was upbeat and friendly as always. It didn't set me at ease. Morning, Bob. Is everything all right?

We both knew that it wasn't. Yeah, yeah, it's great. I just wanted to have a quick chat before you got in. I was thinking you've got a particular relationship with one of the sirens we're moving today. Kayla, we're trying to keep the inmates as calm as possible, so I thought it might help if you rode in with her. I felt my heart skip a beat. Whatever dread I felt didn't reach my face. Looking into Bob's

eyes, I could see him almost pleading with me to somehow break free of this, but I wasn't any stronger than he was. I'd be glad to, I said. And for a moment I could have sworn I heard my voice crack. My lips formed into a joyless smile that Bob returned. Well, great. We'll be riding behind old Vickram, so at least you're amongst friends. He chuckled. It sounded genuine, despite the lack of any real humor in it. He patted me on the shoulder and turned to head inside, and I matched his pace. I'd been right. It wasn't a coincidence that Kayla and Vickram were being moved on the same day. While I doubted they were collaborating, there would have been no way for her to contact Old Vickram. Of that much I was still certain.

I was sure that Kayla was looking to rectify that. After all, if she set him free, well, I imagine that Old Vickram would feel awfully charitable towards her, perhaps charitable enough, to offer her some sort of boon. I didn't know what Kayla would have requested from a creature with old Vickram's power, but I also didn't want to find out. I was there, watching as Kayla was escorted towards the loading elevator, a team of guards walked her and several other sirens in captivity towards the lift, which moved up in an incline. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, and her eyes were covered by a blindfold.

But I knew she could slip those cuffs at any moment. She was just waiting for the right one. Above us, I could see pale sunlight gleaming down, the first sunlight Kayla had probably felt in months. I could see her looking up at it, as if she could see it through her blindfold, and I could see the ghost of a smile on her lips as the elevator began to rise. The trucks were waiting near the top of the lift. I could see one large, unmarked semi off to the side.

No doubt that was the one that held old Vicarum. I spotted the warden standing nearby, speaking to one of the guards. The rest of the trucks were standard prison transport trucks. One for each siren. Security split them up and led them one by one to their trucks. As one guard grabbed Kayla by the arm and pulled her towards hers, I followed. I spotted Bob already waiting inside, a lever-action rifle across his lap. I got into the truck first and sat beside him. Two security guards hauled Kayla in behind me

as someone else closed and locked the door behind us. Kayla was pushed down into a seat across from me, although she seemed comfortable enough. She had the knowing grin of a kid who knew they were on their way to Disney World plastered over her face. One of the guards beside her reached over to pull her blindfold off. Her eyes darted between myself and Bob. Hey y'all. She said, her tone cocky. Her eyes settled on the rifle in Bob's lab before returning to me. You know, it's been a while since I went on a road trip. How about you guys? Nobody answered. I just chuckled and rested her head against the wall of the truck. Okay.

All right, I see how it is. Well then, boys, first things first. Where's my hat? From underneath his seat, Bob took a brown Stetson hat. Kayla slipped effortlessly out of her cuffs and snatched the hat away from Bob before placing it on her head. Well, all right then, let's get this party started. Kayla stood up and took the rifle off of Bob's lap.

You. Get, I want you driving, she said to him. And you, she gestured to one of the two guards. You're in the passenger seat. You two stay close to that semi. I reckon they got the old thing in there. Soon as we're clear of this shit hole, I want you to open the back gate of it up. On cue, Bob and the guard got up.

and opened the door of the truck. They were gone a moment later. They closed the door behind them. Kayla's eyes focused on me now. And you? My understanding is they've got our friend in the semi under some sort of sedation. You're gonna wake him up. So that leaves just you. She looked over at the final guard. Anyone behind us gets any ideas. You shut them down, you hear?" Yes, ma'am." The guard said quietly. You know, that is what I like to hear.

Kayla purred, and almost as if on cue I could hear the engine for the truck starting. It lurched as it began to move. The transport was beginning, and I could see the cruel excitement on Kayla's face. She slung the rifle over her shoulder as she approached the front of the transport. There was a small window with an aluminum mesh covering it that let her see into the cab. Looking past her, I could see the semi in front of us as the truck fell in with the rest of the convoy. It was still several feet ahead, but I could feel the truck gaining speed. Kayla watched for a few moments, letting us move away from Ashurst onto the back roads of Arizona. I watched her unzip her jumpsuit and tie the slings of the slings.

leaves around her waist. Underneath, she wore a plain white tank top. I could almost see her gills underneath the fabric, along her sides. Her arms looked toned and muscular, and she cracked her knuckles in anticipation. The semi-with-vickra minute was getting closer, and after a few moments, Kayla finally made her move. Rifle still in hand, she turned and headed for the back of the transport. Without a second thought, she threw the doors open, revealing the trucks behind us and the Arizona highway speeding past. In the distance, I could see Ashurst itself getting smaller and smaller. Kayla regarded it with a cold satisfaction, before taking aim with her rifle at the truck behind us, and with a vicious smile she pulled the trigger. The windshield

fractured. I saw the body of the driver jerk as the truck veered off the road, disrupting the convoy. Laughing to herself, Kayla reached up to lift herself up under the roof of the truck without so much as stopping to take in the chaos she'd caused. With surprising ease, she vanished under the roof, and I could hear the sound of her body against the metal above us. My heart was racing, but my muscles didn't move. My body would not obey me, even as I felt the panic setting in. As the wind raced past us, I heard the crack of Kayla's rifle again. Ahead of us, I saw the rear of the semi-swerve as one of the tires was blown out.

The heavy stink of burnt rubber filled the air, although it passed soon enough. The semi-struggled to correct itself and from the cabin. I could hear Warden Parker's voice coming in through the radio. Transport six, what the hell are you doing? Neither Bob nor the guard in the passenger seat gave any response. Transport six respond. Shit, get us out of here. The semi-jerked violently to the left, leaving the highway and tearing off into dust.

I could hear Kayla pounding on the roof of the cab, urging Bob to follow. And I felt the truck shake as we gave chase. The rifle fired again, taking out another rear tire of the semi. It didn't stop it. I didn't know if Kayla even had enough ammo to stop it, but it slowed it down enough. Looking out into the cab, I could see the guard open the door and carefully start to try and crawl onto the hood of the truck. I saw Kayla reach down to help him up.

The guard was clearly unstable. I was sure he'd fall off at any moment, but there was a little. Somehow, once he made it onto the windshield, he stayed there as Bob brought him closer to the truck. The guard tried to make his move. He almost pulled it off. I saw him manage to leap onto the back of the semi, but staying there was another matter entirely. He slipped and fell, landing hard on the hood of our truck and clumsily falling off to be left

in the dust. two, you're up." Kayla called. On cue, the second guard rose to their feet. I could hear Kayla's footsteps on the roof above us as she reached down to pull the second guard up to the roof with her. I saw them slide down the windshield to make the same insane, suicidal jump that the first man had tried.

Bob sped closer to the semi, to try and give them a chance, bumping against the back of it. as he did. The guard jumped. They did better than the last guy. At least they managed to hold on and clung to the back of the semi for dear life as they struggled to open it. I don't know how they managed to do it, but they did. With a grunt and a push, the guard lifted the back of the semi up before looking up towards

Kayla, almost as if they were desperate for approval. She just knocked on the roof of the truck again. My turn. On autopilot, I rose from my seat and approached the back of the truck. Just like I'd seen Kayla do, I reached up to try and climb under the roof. I couldn't do it by myself, but she grabbed my arms and hoisted me up like I was nothing. Do your thing, Doc. Let's wake that son bitch up, she said.

Looking into the yawning back of the semi, I could see a rectangular cell made of reinforced glass. The frost on the inside made it hard to see anything, but the vague humanoid shape of old Vikram himself. That was enough to make my heart skip a beat. Every logical cell in my body knew better than to dare approach him. But I wasn't the one in control. With the same suicidal devotion the other guards had displayed, I timidly crawled along the roof of the speeding truck towards the back of the semi. The guard perched on the hood of the car

offered me a hand to help me. And as they did, I spotted movement from the corner of my eye. The passenger door of the semi had swung open, and I could see someone hanging out. Warden Parker. Her 45 sat in her hand. and was aimed directly at our truck. I don't recall hearing the gunfire, but I remember hearing the sound of bullets striking the body of the truck. The guard pushed me forward, sending me stumbling face first into the back of the semi. Looking back, I could see Kayla sliding down the windshield in after me.

The guard's body jerked back suddenly. A shower of his blood sprang onto the windshield. His limp body slid off of the truck and into the dirt below. Bob's truck seemed to back off a little, falling behind us to avoid warden's gunfire. Kayla grimaced, clearly frustrated, but she just chambered a new round and waited. Get to work, Doc, she said coldly. Above us, I could hear the weight of Warden Parker on the roof. She was coming for Kayla.

Still without control, and on unsteady legs, I shambled towards old Vikram cell. On one wall, I could see a screen giving a temperature reading of the inside of the cell itself. I tapped at it, bringing up a menu, then after taking a deep breath, I brought the temperature up. It was only a matter of time until that took effect. From the corner of my eye, I could see Warden Parker. dropping down into the semi behind us. Kayla raised her rifle to fire, but the warden was on her first. She tackled Kayla, slamming her into the wall of the semi and grabbing at her gun. The rifle discharged,

its stray bullet whizzing out into the scrub lands behind us. The warden slammed her head into Kayla's, disorienting her just long enough to rip the rifle from her hands and hurl it out of the back of the semi before going for her pistol. She got off one shot, grazing Kayla's shoulder, before she grabbed her by the wrist, forcing her gun off to the side and aiming it at me. I watched as the two struggled for a moment trying to gain control of the gun. I could see Kayla pushing the barrel back towards the warden's head. I could see the sadistic glee in her eyes. And the warden could too. The gun slipped from her head. hand and clattered against the floor. With a quick sweep of her boot, the warden kicked

it deeper into the semi, a few feet away from me, before Kayla hurled her aside. Kayla spat and licked her lips, eyes focused on Warden Parker like the apex predator she was. She raised a hand to the graze on her arm and admired the blood for a moment, before looking back at the warden. Well then, I guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way then, huh? Come on, vampire. Let's dance. I can't tell who moved first. Their motions were nothing but a blur as they came for each other with blinding speed. I could see the warden coming in high and Kayla coming in low. She drove her fist into the warden's stomach and hoisted her over her shoulder, dumping her onto the ground behind her. The warden recovered quickly, though, and as Kayla came at her again, she caught

her by the throat and threw all her weight against her, pinning her against the wall and driving her fingers into her gills. Kayla let out a shriek of pain, kicking and scratching at the warden before kicking her off of her. And then behind me, I could hear the shifting of old Vickram and a low grumble as he started to awaken. His narrow bark-like limbs seemed to twitch, his fingers flexed. I could sense him awakening. As Kayla and the warden brawled behind me, I watched as old Vickram outstretched his arms, pressing them against the glass of his enclosure as he began to

to orient himself. I could see his eyes fixating on the fight near the back of the semi, and then I saw them fixate on me. His voice was as raspy and unsettling as I remembered. Just the sound of it made me shrink back. You've awakened me. Why? Looking into old Vikram's eyes, I felt that old familiar terror. I remembered the screams of the ghouls he'd set upon me before. I remembered the way they'd all had my father's face. But beneath all that fear, I felt something I didn't expect. Hope.

Kayla never technically told me to tell old Vickram that she'd awakened him. She was supposed to be there to do so herself. But considering that Kayla was currently occupied, I'm not sure if in that moment I broke through whatever spell she had me under, even if only for a moment. Or if I found a loophole, I don't suppose it really matters either. I have a bargain for you. The words felt difficult to get out. I'm not sure if it was whatever holed Kayla had on me, desperately trying to stop me,

for my own doubts about what I was about to do, but I knew that the warden couldn't hold her own against Kayla forever. Sooner or later, she'd either end up hurled out the back of the semi or dead. This was the only option. I free you. You free me. Old Vickram stared at me, as if he was considering my offer. I could hear his ragged.

breathing, growing heavier as he exhaled. And then I heard his laughter. Oh, is that it? That's it, I said. My teeth gritted, and I prayed it would be enough. A simple matter then. Almost as soon as those words left his mouth, I felt the fog in my mind, clear. My muscles seemed to relax, and I felt my legs give out beneath me. I clutched my head, exhaling suddenly, as my mind became mine again. It was overwhelming, a rush of sensation that nearly blinded me to the situation I was still in. Just within arm's reach, I could

see the warden's forty-five, and I knew what I had to do. With a roar, Old Vickram slammed against the walls of his cell. Almost on cue, both Kayla and the warden looked over at him, realizing at the same time that he was awake, and they bore the exact same expressions on their faces. Dread. I snatched up the gun and took aim at Kayla. Her eyes darted over towards me before widening. I pulled the trigger and struck her in the shoulder. With a cry of pain, she fell backwards and placed her hand over the wound. On unsteady legs, I rose upwards and ran for the back of the semi. With Kayla down, Warden Parker did the same.

We threw ourselves out, landing hard on the ground beneath us as the semi sped away. With Kayla still in the back, an old Vikram tearing himself free from his captivity. I looked up, watching as the semi-truck sped forward, I could see old Vikram tearing at his own cell, his every movement violently rocking the semi, until at last with a final snarl. He broke free. The semi seemed to tilt to the side. It almost righted itself before it tipped and skidded along the ground, kicking up dust as it did. And then there was nothing but silence. Warden Parker held up a hand to shield her

eyes from the intense sunlight. She squinted as she tried to get a look at the crash, but it was hard to see anything amongst the dust. I'm sure that I saw the shape of old Vikram rising out of the truck. I'm sure I saw those narrow, tree-like limbs. But it's a little. It's hard to say for sure. I don't regret letting old Vikram loose. I don't think Warden Parker blames me either. She knows it wasn't really Maine, who was behind it. All the same, cleaning up the mess has occupied most of her time during the repairs.

Kayla and Vikram are the first two escapees from Ashurst. She's dedicated to make them the last. The aftermath of Kayla's escape attempt has been difficult by the time Asher's security team found Parker and I, and were able to examine the wreckage, there was no sign of either Old Vickram or Kayla, aside from some footprints. Neither the warden nor I saw them slip away, but creatures like that have their ways. Part of me wants to believe that Old Vickram did something to Kayla, dragged her to to some sort of hell or something.

But I'm not that optimistic. They found Bob's body a few days later, in the bathtub of a motel by the Texas border, drained of his blood. The truck we'd loaded Kayla into was parked out front. A few folks mentioned seeing a pretty woman with a Stetson cowboy hat in town. But nobody knows where she might have gone. I've been debriefed a thousand times by now, but I still don't know where Kayla is going, or what exactly the next step of her plan is.

I'm sure that one way or another, in due time, we'll find out.