Chapter 26: The Emergence Killer - Part 3 (The Trap)
Eugene positioned himself in the library archives with the nervous energy of someone trying to appear vulnerable without actually being helpless. His performance was surprisingly convincing—researching bee communication escalation while projecting exactly the right combination of curiosity and concern to attract a predator.
Bait. My best friend as bait.
This had better work.
I maintained Unnoticed Mode from corner shadows, Crane's detection device humming quietly in my pocket while my shadow sense extended throughout the archives. Wednesday waited in the adjacent corridor, positioned for rapid intervention. Enid patrolled the perimeter with wolf-enhanced senses that could detect threats normal vision would miss.
Coordinated tactical response. Professional operation.
Two hours passed in silence before Helena Vale entered carrying a medical bag that probably contained horrors disguised as healing equipment. She approached Eugene with rehearsed warmth that couldn't quite mask the desperation radiating from her like heat.
"I heard about your emergence symptoms," she said, settling into the chair across from him. "I might be able to help."
Predator establishing trust. Classic manipulation.
Eugene followed our script, expressing vulnerability about his changing powers with exactly the right amount of teenage uncertainty. "It's getting stronger, but I can't control it. Sometimes I hear every bee within miles, and it's overwhelming."
Perfect performance. Eugene missed his calling as an actor.
Helena produced her device—chrome and cruel-looking, with neural interface attachments that belonged in surgical theater rather than guidance counseling. The technology was sophisticated beyond anything a former siren should have access to.
Someone gave her this. Someone with serious resources.
"This will just take a moment," Helena assured him. "You might feel some discomfort, but afterward the noise will stop completely."
Because the ability will be gone. Stolen.
When she moved to attach the device, Eugene's performance cracked: "You're the one hurting students."
Cover blown. Time for Plan B.
Helena's expression transformed from sympathetic counselor to desperate predator. "Hurting? I'm trying to FIX myself. They'll recover eventually. I won't without their essence."
Justification through desperation. Classic victim mindset.
Helena dragged Eugene toward the cave entrance when he resisted, her desperation granting strength that surprised both of them. Wednesday intercepted from the corridor but Helena activated some kind of sonic device—not siren power but technological substitute that staggered everyone within range.
Backup plan. She came prepared.
In the chaos, Helena managed to get Eugene underground where her real laboratory waited. I followed through shadow travel, sinking into darkness and emerging fifty meters deeper in the cave system.
Direct intervention required.
The laboratory was sophisticated nightmare: three extraction chairs surrounded by monitoring equipment, and shelves lined with jars containing what appeared to be liquid light—stolen essences from previous victims.
Systematic operation. Industrial-scale theft.
Helena was strapping Eugene to the center chair when I materialized from the shadows. The device powered up with sound that made teeth ache, electromagnetic field creating barriers my shadows couldn't penetrate.
Physics versus supernatural. Physics winning.
Enid crashed through a secondary entrance in partial wolf form, all alpha aggression and protective fury. But Helena panicked and cranked the machine to maximum power.
Eugene screamed as the extraction began.
Out of time. No time for subtle tactics.
My shadows couldn't reach through the electromagnetic field, and physical intervention meant abandoning Unnoticed Mode when we needed tactical advantage most. But Eugene was dying, essence being torn from his soul like surgery without anesthesia.
Choice time. Risk everything or watch him die.
"RELEASE."
The Cursed Speech tore through my already-scarred throat with immediate taste of copper and agony. Helena's arms opened involuntarily, releasing the machine's controls as supernatural compulsion overrode conscious will.
Eugene falling free. Good start.
But Helena was reaching for emergency activation, and the extraction would resume within seconds.
"SLEEP."
The second command was agony incarnate, my voice cracking mid-word as vocal cords that had never fully healed tore apart completely. Helena collapsed unconscious, but the cost was immediate and devastating.
Throat destroyed. Voice gone. Completely gone.
I collapsed as blood streamed from my mouth, consciousness graying while Enid caught me before I hit stone floor. Her wolf form receded from shock as she processed what I'd just sacrificed.
Worth it. Eugene's alive. Worth any price.
Wednesday secured Helena while Crane arrived—summoned by the detection device's emergency signal—and surveyed the scene with clinical precision.
"Well executed, though Mr. Bason's tactical sacrifice concerns me. His voice may not recover this time."
Probably not. Don't care.
Eugene's breathing. That's all that matters.
Six days in the infirmary. Six days of complete silence while my throat tried to heal damage that might be permanent. Eugene sat beside my bed, alive and whole and furious in the way only people who've been saved can be.
"You destroyed your voice," he said when I finally regained consciousness. "Again. FOR me. Again."
Truth. Complete truth.
I tried to respond but only wheeze emerged—damaged vocal cords producing nothing resembling human speech.
Medical staff confirms: catastrophic damage. Whispers only for minimum two weeks. Shouting might never return.
Cursed Speech now carries risk of permanent muteness with each activation.
"You can't keep sacrificing yourself," Eugene continued, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not worth you losing your voice forever."
Wrong. So completely wrong.
I managed to rasp four words that took twenty seconds to form: "You... are... to... me."
Truth. Simple truth that encompasses everything.
The declaration broke Eugene's anger into gratitude, and we sat in silence that communicated more than words ever could.
Found family. Chosen obligation.
Worth any sacrifice.
Outside, Helena Vale was receiving psychiatric care, her extraction equipment destroyed, and Crane's investigation into "who gave her the technology" continued without answers.
Victory. Costly victory.
But Eugene was alive, and that made everything else bearable.
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