Novels2Search

19. I Really Hate Tests (Declan)

“And now for the last test,” Father Ben said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “I do apologize, but this may be uncomfortable. I’m going to need to strap you down.”

“Strap me down?” I asked, trying to mask the unease bubbling in my chest. “For my own safety, of course?”

“And mine,” he replied, his tone calm, almost conversational. “Because if I’m right, this will be painful and could cause a violent reaction.”

“Like that UV thing?” I asked, wincing at the memory.

“Oh, far worse, I’m afraid,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Great,” I muttered. “Lay it on me.”

Father Ben worked with quiet efficiency, his steady hands guiding me into position on what felt like a heavy wooden table. The straps - thick leather lined with something faintly metallic - secured my wrists and ankles with unsettling precision. They carried a faint scent of oil and something sharper, something cold and metallic that made my skin prickle.

As he fastened the last buckle, I quipped, “You’re really leaning into the mad scientist aesthetic, huh? Missing the lab coat, though.”

“You’re not wrong,” he replied, his voice carrying a faint smile. “But I assure you, this is all for your benefit.”

“Good to know,” I said dryly. “Nothing like a little benevolent torture to make a guy feel welcome.”

Father Ben didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I heard the clinking of glass vials and the faint shhhh of liquid being poured. Then came the smell - sharp, noxious, and utterly vile. It clawed its way into my nostrils, thick and cloying, like a mix of rotting meat and acrid chemicals. My stomach churned violently, and I instinctively pulled back as the odor grew stronger.

“Good lord, what is that?” I rasped, trying to turn my head away.

“An alchemical solution of my own making,” Ben said, his tone entirely too casual for what I was enduring. “Its properties are... specific.”

“Specific to what? Digging graves?”

“Patience, Declan,” he replied, wafting the rancid concoction under my nose. The smell intensified, and I jerked my head back, my reflexes screaming for escape. Despite the revolting scent, nothing beyond discomfort occurred.

I exhaled a shaky breath, relief creeping in. “Well, that wasn’t so - ”

Before I could finish, Father Ben poured the liquid onto my chest. The reaction was immediate - and violent.

A searing pain erupted across my torso, radiating outward like molten metal coursing through my veins. My body convulsed against the restraints, muscles seizing as the liquid seemed to burn through my very being. A guttural snarl tore from my throat, raw and animalistic, as the transformation began.

Father Ben’s voice cut through the haze of agony, calm and clinical. “Subject suffered no adverse effects from the previous tests, proving quite resilient. However, the application of Alchemical Solution X has produced immediate and dramatic results.”

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His words barely registered as my body betrayed me, shifting in ways that defied reason. My skin tightened, the sensation excruciating as it pulled taut against my bones. I felt myself shrinking inward, as if my body was collapsing into something smaller, leaner - something monstrous.

“Subject has lost complexion,” Ben continued, moving around me with unsettling composure. “Skin has taken on a sallow, ashen appearance. Tissue density has contracted, exposing tendons, bones, and ligaments.”

I felt his fingers on my face, firm but not unkind, peeling back my lips to examine my teeth. His touch ignited a surge of hunger so intense it bordered on madness. My incisors throbbed, and a fresh wave of pain shot through my jaw as they elongated, razor-sharp and foreign.

“Incisors are elongated, laid bare with involuntary muscle contractions. Fascinating,” Ben murmured, his tone almost admiring. “Subject’s facial features remain relatively constant, adopting a gaunt but objectively aesthetic appearance. The better to lure prey, I imagine.”

Through the haze of pain and hunger, I managed a hoarse growl. “Glad to know I still look good.”

Father Ben chuckled softly, moving to a nearby table where his tools awaited. The faint clink of glass and metal filled the air as he prepared his next tests. I strained against the straps, the silver-lined leather biting into my skin. The faint sizzle where it touched sent sharp stabs of pain through my wrists, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. The hunger was consuming, a ravenous force that demanded satisfaction.

“You’re not making this easy, my boy,” Ben said, returning with a new set of instruments. “But I do appreciate your tenacity.”

He began retesting me with the previous items, and this time, the results were nightmarishly different.

“Holy water,” he said, and I felt the cold splash against my skin. The reaction was instantaneous - a blistering, sizzling burn that ate away at my flesh like acid. I roared in agony, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls.

“Holy water burns the subject’s flesh as acid might react to a human body,” Ben noted calmly, his voice steady even as I writhed and growled like a trapped animal.

Next came the cross. Its weight was familiar, but the instant it touched my hand, a searing pain shot through me, the flesh beneath it bubbling and smoking. I snarled, baring my elongated teeth as I tried to throw it off, but the restraints held firm.

“The silver cross burns the subject’s skin as a branding iron would,” Ben observed, removing the cross and placing it aside with a quiet hum of interest.

And then came the UV lamp. The warmth hit my skin first, deceptive in its gentleness, before escalating into an unbearable heat. This time, there was no slow build-up - it was an inferno, my skin igniting in an incendiary reaction that sent waves of unbearable pain through my body. I screamed, thrashing against the straps with every ounce of strength I had left.

“UV light causes immediate incendiary reaction upon contact,” Ben said, his voice distant as I fought against the inferno burning me alive. “Preliminary results suggest the subject is of the Nosferatic vampiric genus, a species of undead.”

Through the haze of pain and hunger, one thought rose above the rest: I needed to escape. My muscles bunched, and I pulled against the straps with everything I had. The silver-lined bindings dug deeper into my skin, their bite sharp and unrelenting. The metallic tang of my own blood filled the air, tantalizing and maddening all at once.

Ben’s voice cut through my animalistic growls, steady and firm. “It’s going to be okay, my boy. We’ll get you right in no time.”

I snapped at the air, my teeth gnashing as the hunger took full control. I wanted to tear into him, to sate the gnawing void that threatened to devour me from within.

Ben’s calm never wavered as he approached with something cold and metallic. “Just need to get this antidote into you, and you’ll be right as rain.”

The faint scent of something medicinal and bitter filled my nostrils. I barely registered the prick of a needle in my neck before a cool sensation began to spread through my veins, chasing away the fire. My body sagged against the table, the ravenous hunger receding like a storm finally passing.

“Rest now,” Ben said softly, his hand firm and steady on my shoulder. “We’re making progress.”

The tension in my body ebbed, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The last thing I heard was the faint click of Ben’s recording device as he murmured his final observations. Then, darkness claimed me once more.