* * * *
Sam groaned and held her head. There were a thousand tiny madmen in there, all intent on beating drums out of sync with each other. The headaches she'd experienced before had nothing on this. The noise created by the madmen vibrated through every nerve, every cell — it even seemed to gain form and dance around her. Her whole body thrummed to the beat of its tune.Slowly, she realized the noise was real, not imagined.
Slowly, she realized she was not alone.
She lifted her head. Dr. Francis, the vet she'd taken her borrowed cat to, stood four feet away, her arms crossed and a contemptuous look on her face. Behind her, though cloaked in darkness, Sam could make out a series of tumbledown brick walls. No light broke the darkness, and the air had a stale smell. All around them, noise hummed. Machinery, she realized. They were on a building site.
But what kind of site operated in the middle of the night?
"You should be dead," Francis said. Her voice was still ultra polite, still disinterested. "First you managed to overcome a lethal dose of Jadrone, and then you somehow survive a car accident that would have killed most."
"You were the budgie in Max's office," she murmured. The men in her head were beginning to find some rhythm, making some semblance of thought possible. "Why did you think injecting Jadrone into me might stop me?"
A smile fluttered across the doctor's brightly painted lips. "I can sense others of my kind, as you also appear able to do."
If she thought her a changer, at least that explained the dose of Jadrone. "But why try to kill me? And why try to kill Max? Wasn't he your lover?"
"He was nothing more than a weak fool." Contempt dripped from the doctor's voice. "He would have told you of our partnership. Would have implicated me in Harry's murder. With Max all but dead, I thought I was safe until you showed up at the office."
So the doctor had known who she was all along and had simply played along. She must have followed her to O'Hearn's and then home. Obviously, the doc had no idea that Harry's murder was tied in with a serial killer. Maybe she didn't read the newspapers.
She tried to ease the ache in her left leg by shifting her weight slightly and realized she couldn't even move. Her legs were wrapped in something cold and heavy. Chains.
Fear rose, but she thrust it away. There was no time for fear, only escape. And if she didn't do that soon she would die, of that much she was sure.
"How were you involved with Harry?"
"He was nothing more than a test subject."
"For your new drug," she guessed. "An addictive and expensive replacement for Jadrone."
"Yes." She hesitated. A siren blasted through the hum of machinery. "Time to go, I'm afraid. You are in the basement of the old South Melbourne Hospital. A fitting place to die, I think,"
At least that explained the predawn activity. Because of the hospital's proximity to a large number of office buildings, the demolition team had only been given clearance to work between midnight and dawn.
"The chains that contain you are silver-coated," Francis continued. "You cannot change shape until you escape them, my dear. And by then, death will be falling around your ears."
"You won't get away with this, Francis. The SIU doesn't take kindly to someone killing their operatives." She had no idea whether this was true or not, but hell, it sounded good.
"By the time they find out you didn't die in your apartment bombing, you will be dead and I will be long gone."
The doctor stepped back and raised her arms — her body blurred, briefly resembling putty being squeezed into a too-small tube. Then she became a budgie and flitted away through the darkness.
Sam glanced down at the chains. The two ends ran off in the darkness, one to her right, and one to her left. They were connected to hooks in the wall that kept the chains taut. All she had to do was unlatch one and she'd be free.
She lunged sideways. The chains around her waist bit deep, and breathing became difficult. She ignored it, and tried to flick the end of the chain off the hook on the wall. It didn't even budge. Cursing softly, she sat back up and grabbed hold of the chain. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back as hard as she could.
A muffled thump ran through silence, followed by a thick wave a dust. She coughed, and glanced up. A shudder ran through ceiling above her, and cracks began to appear, spider-like lines that raced from the edges toward the middle.
Fear surged. Time was running out. She swore and pulled back on the chain again. The hook on the wall shifted slightly. Another muffled thump ran through the silence. Dirt and plaster began to rain down on her.
"Come on, you mother, come on!"
The hook came free with a sudden "pop," and sent her sprawling backwards. At the same time, another muffled thump ran across the shattering darkness, closer this time. The ceiling above her groaned. The spider-like lines intermingled and the whole ceiling dropped.
She screamed and threw herself sideways. But the chains still restricted movement and all she could do was throw her hands over her head and pray for a miracle.
Chapter Eleven