Page 95 of Property of Crypt Keeper

He laughed—actually laughed. “I appreciate humor.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“No.” He picked up a syringe as he stepped closer. “I don’t suppose you were.”

I snarled.

He smiled. “I must say, you are quite magnificent in your Rougarou form. Unlike any I’ve encountered before. Much larger and stronger than your father, for sure.”

My father?

The next hour became a blur of measured cruelty. Not torture, because that would have implied emotion. The Doctor wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sadistic. Nor was he trying to make me scream.

Everything had purpose.

Blood. Measured, labeled, stored. Bone marrow. Collected, recorded. Hair follicles. Cataloged. Skin biopsies.

Everything photographed before preservation.

Saliva. Compared.

“God fucking dammit! Didn’t you already collect all of that shit from me?” I shouted.

He frowned, his brows dropping low as he studied me with his head tilted to the side as if he’d forgotten I was still there. “Two sets, sometimes three, are better than one. It lessens the chances of error.”

Then he returned to his work. Every procedure was followed by notes. Observations. Hypotheses. Like I wasn’t a living creature, I was merely an equation or a puzzle.

A specimen.

Oddly, that was worse. Because pain given for pleasure eventually ended. Curiosity never did.

I must’ve passed out again because I came to again wishing I hadn’t.

The Doctor stood beside me, reading through pages of handwritten notes. “Incredible,” he murmured almost to himself. “The regeneration rate alone…” He shook his head. “…remarkable.”

Rafael leaned against the opposite wall dressed like he was attending a board meeting. Watching. Patient. Silent.

Unlike the doctor, he hadn’t said more than three words since I’d woken after he captured me.

He wasn’t fascinated, he was calculating. There was a difference. One wanted answers. The other wanted an advantage.

I filed that away.

Then something overhead in the laboratory chimed. Not an alarm exactly. It was more of a pleasant electronic tone that echoed softly through the room. Like a hospital announcing visiting hours.

An automated female voice spoke calmly. “Specimens Contained.”

At first, nobody moved. Another pause.

“Containment remains intact. Safe to proceed.”

The Doctor kept writing. Didn’t even glance toward the ceiling. Rafael, on the other hand, became alert.

“Intruders detected within lower catacombs.”

That really got Rafael’s attention. He briskly walked to a desk and flipped a switch. Several security monitors illuminated along one wall. Camera feeds flickered to life.

The cathedral. The tunnels. The cells. Then—Katalina. All but her eyes covered, I still recognized her immediately.