A World of New (A Shade of Vampire, #26)

For the first time, I witnessed expression on the man’s face. It twisted and contorted, coming alive with alarm and confusion. As I was standing closer to his direct line of vision, it was me he first set his eyes on. Yet, even as he looked at me, it felt as though he was not really seeing me. He blinked hard, his irises glassy and distant. He raised his hands to his face, brushing his fingers harshly against his eyes, before they shot down to the bedsheets. He gripped them, then, with an alarming clicking of his joints, he attempted to sit up. Before Shayla or I could ease him back down, his elbows collapsed beneath him. His head descended on the pillow and he began coughing violently. Specks of blood landed on his chest. Coughing blood.

“Need to fetch more medication,” Shayla said before hurrying off again.

There was not much I could do in the meantime but place a hand over his and try to offer him a thread of comfort. I had no idea what kind of trauma he had been through, and right now, I just wanted him to feel like he was safe. That we did not wish to harm him but only help him.

“Hey,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

He seemed quite oblivious to my words as he continued to cough.

Shayla returned and fed him another potion. He resisted swallowing, but then, after Shayla insisted, he gulped hard and gradually his coughing diminished, giving way to heavy breathing.

I grabbed some tissues and dabbed the blood away from his chest and mouth.

I exchanged glances with Shayla.

“What’s your name?” the witch asked gently.

He squinted as his eyes fixed on her again. “My name,” he murmured. His voice was rasping and… British. “I-I don’t know.”

Shayla looked taken aback. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

I bit my lower lip. He appeared to be suffering from some form of amnesia.

“Is there anything that you do remember?” Shayla asked.

The man groaned, shaking his head. Then he struggled again to sit up. I was afraid that he might start coughing up blood again, but Shayla assisted him, easing him up slowly, until he was resting at a forty-five-degree angle. He didn’t show signs of descending into another fit. His breathing was still labored, however. His lips parted slightly, his eyes glossing over, as though losing himself to a distant memory. “Needles,” he replied hoarsely. “I remember needles. And men. Men in black uniform. And coldness. Awful coldness.” He shivered even now. Of course, if he was a half-blood, he would suffer from acute coldness. I grabbed another blanket and placed it over him.

“That’s all you remember?” Shayla pressed.

“Yes… that is all. That is…” His eyes returned to me. And then he gazed for the first time around the room that he had woken up in. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re safe,” I assured him. “Far away from those men in black uniform. You’re on an island called The Shade. Have you ever heard of it?” Or perhaps a better question would have been, Can you remember ever hearing of it?

He shook his head, causing a deep crinkle in his forehand as he frowned. “I don’t know.” Then he ran his hands over his face, covering his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “God,” he whispered. “What happened to me?”

“I’m guessing that you were kidnapped,” Shayla replied. “From where, I was hoping you’d be able to tell us. Going by your accent, you’re not from America. You were taken to a room where you were locked up and apparently served as the object for some kind of experimentation… I’m hoping to nurse you back to health so that you can remember everything you have forgotten.” She reached for his arms and held his palms in her hands, studying them. She flexed his fingers and then his wrists. “Mobility seems okay in your arms and the upper portion of your body. Are you able to move your legs?”

Panic flashed across the man’s face as his eyes shot down to his legs. As he winced, I realized that he was trying to move them. They didn’t budge.

He exhaled a breath. “I can’t,” he rasped, his brown eyes shining with alarm.

Shayla moved to his feet and began examining them. Then she moved up to his knees, feeling them through the fabric of his pants. “Do you feel any sensation at all?” she asked.

“No.”

She pursed her lips. “Yes. As I feared, your legs have been paralyzed.”

His breath hitched.

“It should not be anything that we can’t fix, however,” Shayla said, giving him a warm smile. “I’m going to leave you with Grace here while I go fetch you something to eat. You’re terribly weak.”

With that, Shayla marched out of the room. I noted how she had not been using her magic to leave and arrive. I guessed she didn’t want to lay too much on the man at once. His head was already in a tailspin. I wondered if he had ever encountered witches before.

“Why would they have taken me?” he asked me. “And who were they anyway? Why would they paralyze me? Why do I feel so cold?”

I let out a slow sigh. Where do I even begin? He was still in such a daze right now, I doubted he could handle all the answers—and of course, I didn’t know all the answers anyway.

“I’m not sure why they took you or why they paralyzed you. But those people are part of a, um, kind of research organization. A very ruthless one.”