The Trap House

Elena didn't scream. She didn't freeze. She just ran.

She sprinted through the maze of trash, her boots slipping on the slick, icy pavement. The empty syringe was still clutched in her hand, a plastic talisman against the encroaching darkness. She needed to find that car.

But she didn't know where it was going. She didn't know where Vane took the broken things he collected.

"Elena!"

A voice echoed from the street. Marcus.

He was driving the tow truck, the yellow lights flashing against the brick walls of the warehouses. He screeched to a halt at the alley entrance.

"Get in!" he shouted.

Elena threw herself into the cab. "Follow that car! The black sedan!"

Marcus slammed the truck into gear. The heavy vehicle lurched forward, roaring like a dying beast. They turned onto the main road just in time to see the sedan’s taillights disappearing around a corner.

"He has Leo," Elena said, her voice shaking. "I found his shoe. And a syringe."

Marcus glanced at her, his face grim. "Is he...?"

"He's alive," Elena said. "Vane doesn't kill assets. He stores them."

"Where?" Marcus asked, swerving to avoid a pothole. "The manor is burned. The lodge is gone."

"The orphanage," Elena said. "St. Jude's."

"It's condemned," Marcus said. "I checked the records. It's been slated for demolition for ten years."

"That's why it's perfect," Elena said. "No inspections. No visitors."

She looked out the window. The city was fading, replaced by the industrial wasteland that bordered the river. The same river that ran past the Hawthorne estate.

"It's not just a warehouse," she realized. "It's a pipeline."

Marcus gunned the engine. "Then let's go break it."

They drove for twenty minutes, the tow truck rattling and groaning. The road narrowed, turning into a dirt track that wound through the skeletal remains of old factories.

And then, they saw it.

St. Jude's Home for Unwed Mothers.

It was a fortress of red brick, surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire. The windows were boarded up, but light bled through the cracks. And parked in the courtyard, next to a loading dock, was the black sedan.

And a van. A large, white van with no markings.

"They're moving him," Elena said. "They're taking him somewhere else."

"Not on my watch," Marcus said.

He didn't slow down. He aimed the tow truck at the gate.

"Hold on."

The truck hit the chain-link fence with a screech of tearing metal. The gate buckled, then snapped. They plowed through, bouncing over the uneven ground of the courtyard.

Marcus slammed the brakes. The truck skidded to a halt, blocking the van’s exit.

Men poured out of the building. Vane’s security. They had guns.

"Stay down!" Marcus shouted, ducking below the dashboard.

Bullets pinged against the metal of the truck. The windshield shattered.

Elena didn't stay down. She opened the door and rolled out onto the frozen mud.

She crawled under the chassis of the truck. She could see their feet. Four men. Moving toward the cab.

She needed a distraction.

She saw the fuel tank of the van. It was exposed.

She looked at the syringe in her hand. Useless.

But in her pocket, she had the lighter. Mrs. Gable's Zippo.

She crawled toward the van. The mud was freezing, seeping through her jeans.

She reached the tank. She unscrewed the cap. Fumes hissed out.

She flicked the lighter.

She tossed it.

The flame caught the vapors instantly. A *whoosh* of fire erupted, licking up the side of the van.

"Fire!" one of the guards shouted.

They turned, distracted.

Elena scrambled up. She ran for the building.

She burst through the loading dock doors. Inside, it was a sterile nightmare. White tiles. Stainless steel tables.

And in the center of the room, strapped to a gurney, was Leo.

He was unconscious. An IV line ran into his arm.

Standing over him was a man in a lab coat. Not Evans. Someone else.

"Get away from him!" Elena screamed.

She grabbed a tray of surgical instruments and threw it. Scalpels and clamps clattered across the floor.

The doctor jumped back. "Who are you?"

"I'm his mother," Elena said.

She lunged for the IV. She ripped it out of Leo’s arm. Blood welled up, dark and sluggish.

"Leo!" She slapped his face. "Leo, wake up!"

He groaned. His eyelids fluttered. "Mom?"

"I'm here," she said. "We're leaving."

She tried to undo the straps. They were leather, thick and tight.

"You can't take him," the doctor said, reaching for a phone on the wall. "Mr. Vane gave strict orders."

Elena picked up a scalpel from the floor.

"Call him," she said. "Tell him I'm here. Tell him I'm taking my son back."

The doctor hesitated. He looked at the blade.

"Do it!"

He dialed.

"Mr. Vane? She's here. In the lab."

He listened. His face went pale.

"Yes, sir."

He hung up.

"He says you can take him," the doctor said.

"What?"

"He says the boy is damaged goods anyway. He says he has what he needs."

Elena froze. *What he needs.*

She looked at Leo. He was groggy, but whole. Two arms. Two legs.

"What did you take?" she whispered.

The doctor pointed to a cooler on the counter. A small, red cooler marked *Biohazard*.

"A sample," he said. "Bone marrow."

Elena felt the room spin.

"Why?"

"Genetic sequencing," the doctor said. "Mr. Vane is very particular about the bloodline. He wanted to isolate the markers. For the next batch."

Elena looked at the cooler. Then she looked at the scalpel in her hand.

"There won't be a next batch," she said.

She walked over to the cooler. She opened it. Inside, in a vial, was the red marrow.

She smashed the vial on the floor.

The doctor gasped. "You just destroyed a million dollars of research!"

"I just destroyed a curse," Elena said.

She went back to Leo. She cut the straps.

"Can you walk?" she asked.

"I think so," Leo mumbled.

She hauled him up. He was heavy, dead weight against her shoulder.

They stumbled toward the door.

Outside, the van was fully engulfed. The guards were shouting, trying to contain the fire. Marcus was waiting by the tow truck, waving them over.

They ran.

They piled into the cab. Marcus hit the gas.

As they sped away, leaving the burning orphanage behind, Elena looked at Leo. He was sleeping again, his head on her lap.

She touched his hair. It was matted with sweat.

Vane had taken his blood. He had taken his marrow.

But he hadn't taken his soul.

"He let us go," Beatrice said, looking out the back window. "Why?"

"Because he doesn't need Leo anymore," Elena said. "He has the sequence. He has the data."

"But you destroyed the sample," Marcus said.

"I destroyed *one* sample," Elena said. "But Vane is meticulous. He makes copies."

She looked at the dark road ahead.

"He's not done," she said. "He's just moving to the next phase."

"What phase?" Julian asked.

Elena looked at the bruise on Leo’s arm where the IV had been.

"Mass production."