The Pyramid Chronicles: Fortuna Guard (#2)

Chapter Sixteen: Bad Dreams

Sam had been having trouble sleeping for a few nights now.

When he checked his phone for the thirtieth time and found it was nearly two a.m., he gave in to the idea he'd been on the fence about for days. It was as bad an idea as it had been when he'd went with Eric—worse, even—but he needed answers.

The distant sound of crashing waves echoed through the otherwise empty halls. The waters were rougher than usual tonight, and the ground beneath Sam's feet swayed as he made his way to the cellblock.

Sam hesitated outside the door. Charles had mentioned the other day that Malcolm had been sleeping an unusually high amount the past couple of weeks. He might be out right now, especially given that it was the middle of the night.

Well, if he was, Sam could always leave and try again later. Maybe a few laps around the ship would be enough to tire him out.

Sam willed himself to put his hand on the door handle and push it open.

He only took three steps into the hall before Malcolm's voice cut through the darkness. "Back again?"

Sam jumped. "Geez. You're awake."

A lamp clicked on, illuminating Malcolm and his cell. He stepped away from the small table next to his cot and approached the cell bars. "I am. Sorry if you only came to watch me sleep."

"What? No, I wanted to talk to you." Sam walked the rest of the way to the cell, hoping Malcolm wouldn't notice the slight tremble in his hands. "About my, uh, memories. I want to know what happened to me."

"Hm." A smug smile crossed Malcolm's face as he adjusted the long sleeve of his black shirt. "Well, figuring out where to start will be trickier with you." He looked at Sam and lifted an eyebrow. "Do you have any recurring nightmares?"

"Not that I can think of." Sam's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you can help me? Your powers are just dream and sleep-related."

"Oh, it's a little more than that."

Sam folded his arms. "Are you ever going to tell us where your powers came from?" It probably wouldn't be useful information, but he was curious.

Malcolm laughed. "I fell into a vat of chemicals," he said, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"Did the chemicals make you more annoying, too?" Sam deadpanned.

A smirk touched the corner of Malcolm's mouth. He moved a few feet to the nearest wall and leaned against it, folding his arms. "Fine, I'll tell you what I know about where I got my abilities. It won't change much, anyway."

Despite Malcolm's feigned indifference, Sam suspected he liked talking about his abilities. He needed everyone around him to know he was powerful.

"My powers were created in a lab experiment," Malcolm said. "I'd love to bore you with the details, but I haven't been able to track down the reports. Yet." He gave a slight shrug. "I was too young to remember much. However, I've been told that I became too much for the scientists to handle. Drove about half of them to insanity, apparently."

Lovely.

"At any rate," Malcolm continued, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather. "They decided to get rid of me. They attempted to undo what they accomplished and dropped me off at a children's shelter. They didn't do a very good job of getting rid of my powers, though, and it didn't take long for me to catch the attention of a man named Andrew Hale."

"You keep mentioning that guy," Sam said. "Is he connected to Scorpion?"

"That is information I'm going to hold onto until you let me out of here. Now, I promised you I would tell you where I came from," Malcolm said. He leaned toward the bars. Toward Sam. "Let me finish."