by J. R. Ward
Then, it had been a case of wanting to survive.
Now, it was through the eyes of that female that he took the measure of those with whom he was familiar. There were at least fifteen hundred prisoners down here, which sounded like a lot until you spent a hundred years with the same set of faces—and it wasn’t like there were new people coming in anymore. In fact, he couldn’t think of a fresh arrival in the last ten years.
Then again, what had the female said? The raids. The Council gone. Most of the Founding Families dead.
Seventy-five years ago, if that disruption in authority had occurred? Fifty years ago? Perhaps the population down here would have revolted and escaped. But not now. In spite of what he’d told his guest, the glymera was no longer in charge of the prison they had created—and they hadn’t been for at least two decades.
The Command had been gathering the reins of control for quite some time—
Up ahead, a figure among the others stood out. Taller than most, with what the Jackal’s grandfather would have called “a regal carriage,” the male somehow turned his common clothes into tailor-made masterpieces just by the controlled swing of his proper gait.
Speak of the aristocrat.
The Jackal jumped ahead, falling into the wake of his target. In a low voice, he said, “I need a favor.”
It was a testament to the kind of vampire he was dealing with that nothing changed about the male. Not the stride, not the straight-ahead of the focus, not the swing in those arms.
But there was a quiet reply, low and soft. “What do you need, my friend.”
“Come to my cell.”
“When.”
“Now.”
There was the briefest of nods, and then, at the next branching-off, the male deviated from the flow of bodies headed to the Hive, and penetrated a tunnel with narrower walls and no foot traffic. The Jackal stuck with the prisoner, and they went quite some distance before stopping.
Nothing was said as they waited.
When there was no trail and no guards, the Jackal walked forward a couple of yards and paused with his back to the stone wall. The other male played lookout as the hidden switch was hit and a soft clicking sound was released as the panel slid back.
A moment later, the pair of them were in the other end of the hidden passageway that the Jackal had brought the female into in the first place.
“Tell me,” Kane said as candles flared, and they started walking.
Kane had been the biggest surprise when the Jackal was first learning the ropes of the prison. Another aristocrat who was both educated and smart—not always the same thing—the male had, no doubt as a throwback social courtesy, extended a hand in mentorship. The two of them had much in common, and not only when it came to their backgrounds and fall from status.
“I’m going to let her explain it,” the Jackal murmured.
“Her?”
The Jackal let that stand and went along faster, covering the distance to the nearest of the three exits with alacrity. Emerging from the passage was always a risk, and he was forced to stop and listen. When there was nothing on the other side, he released the hold and the panel slid back without a sound.
Extraction was faster than a blink, and then he and Kane were almost to his cell—
The Jackal jerked to a halt. Even though that was the wrong instinct. But he couldn’t understand what he was looking at.
The civilian female, who he had witnessed hiding herself well and properly under his bed, appeared to be out and about, and she had managed to cross paths with the ultimate bad penny in the prison. She was standing within swiping distance of that wolven—and Lucan was looking like he’d found Little Red Riding Hood alone in the forest. The huge hybrid was staring down at her with hunger in his face and in his powerful body, the sexual intent rolling off of him in waves.
The Jackal would have shouted, except he didn’t want to draw any notice from anybody. Instead, he lunged forward, prepared to tackle the other male—
The female moved so fast, no one saw it coming.
Not even the wolf.
In a single, decisive surge, she outed a sharp knife, planted a palm on the hybrid’s sternum, and jabbed the blade’s tip right up into his crotch.
In a calm voice, she said, “I’ll castrate you right here, right now. Or you can back up off me. What’s it going to be, big guy? Doesn’t matter to me which way we go, but I have a feeling you’re going to want to keep what’s down here or your swagger’s out the window.”
To emphasize her point, she put some muscle into the weapon.
The wolven let out a squeak that was wholly at odds with his size and his—what had the female called it? Swagger?
Behind the Jackal, Kane let out a soft laugh. “Well,” the aristocrat said, “at least I know what we’re dealing with.”
Following Nyx’s bladed face-off with that golden-eyed male’s most delicate of areas, things were a little tense. Then again, guys did tend to do a groupthink wince when anybody with their anatomy got their hey-nannies threatened by something sharp and shiny. After the situation de-escalated, and the others were able to stand without covering themselves with both palms, she followed all three of them into a hidden tunnel and down to a low-ceilinged open area that everyone but she had to duck to get into. Candles, not light bulbs, lit the way and lit the talk spot, the circle of flat stone “seats” that surrounded a fire pit making her wonder just how cold it got down here in the winter.
She sat when the others did, and she cracked a smile as she noted that the big male with those yellow eyes and the big ideas sat waaaaaaay across from her.
And closed his knees together like he wasn’t sure exactly how put away her knife was.
“This is Kane,” the male with brilliant blue eyes said. Then he tacked on dryly, “And you’ve met Lucan.”
There was a silence, during which she stared at her paid guide to the prison. He had stayed close to her when they’d been going through the passageway, and he sat on the stone next to hers. Given the glower on his face, she could guess that he was talking to her in his head, no doubt berating her for the impulse that had taken her out from under his bed and provided her with the opportunity to meet all kinds of new friends.
God, that female with the ruined face.
Nyx glanced over at the one who’d been introduced as Kane. His silver eyes were steady, his body was giving off no signs of aggression or sexual charge, and he had the kind of open, handsome face that made you think no matter what was going on, things were going to be okay.
This situation could use about fifteen more of him, she thought.
“How can I help you?” he asked in a calm, level tone.
In contrast to his speech, hers was rushed. Rough.
“I’m looking for my sister. Her name is Janelle. She was falsely accused of murder and got two hundred and fifty years.” By their grandfather, for godsakes. “She’s been down here since nineteen sixty-seven. June second, nineteen sixty-seven. I’ll tell you anything you need to know about her.”
“Everyone’s falsely accused of something in this prison,” Lucan, the one she’d almost turned into a Lynette, muttered.
Kane lowered his eyes for a brief moment. “May I ask, what do you think you will do if you find her?”
“When I find her. And I’m going to get her out.”
“How will you do that?”
“I know how I came in. I’ll backtrack there and take her home.”
“And you think they will not come after you?” He lifted a hand and gestured around. “The guards here have a job and they are accountable for it. The head count must register properly for the work shifts. If it does not, those males are beaten—or worse. They will choose themselves over you and your family, I assure you.”
“I’ll be gone before they know I’m here.”
As the other males looked at each other and shook their heads, Kane said, “Do you live with anyone you care about? Because they’ll slaughter eve
rything around them if they must reclaim a prisoner from hiding, and they will bring the bodies back here to show their duty is done. Life and death is not only for the prisoners herein. It is for everybody the Command administers and all who seek to disorder the order. In this, the guards are no different than we prisoners.”
“My sister is innocent.”
“In your mind, perhaps. But that is not a defense if you help her escape.”
Part of Nyx wanted to argue that her situation was different, that however many people here needed to be imprisoned, Janelle was not one of them. But then she thought about that guard in the crypt. She’d never killed before, yet it was the work of a moment to choose her own survival over a threat to it.
“I’ll take Janelle far away,” she said. “No one will find us.”
Kane reached up and pulled open the front of his loose shirting. Around the base of his throat was an inch-thick band that he had evidently worn for so long, it had discolored and dug into his skin.
“Yes, they will.” He shifted the thing around so that a subtle blinking dot showed. “They will absolutely find you. And her. These track collars are our leashes.”
“I could take it off her—”
“No, you can’t.”
Her male with the brilliant blue eyes spoke up. “They’re explosive collars. If the connection is broken at the back, the charge instantly detonates. There’s no surviving it. They’re also rimmed with steel on the inside so there is no dematerializing.”
Okay, first of all, this male was not “hers,” she reminded herself. And secondly . . .
“So that’s why the cell doors are all open.” She glanced at the three prisoners. “That’s why no one leaves. But don’t the batteries eventually wear out?”
“When the light changes to orange,” Kane said, “you have twenty-four hours to replace them. If the power gets lower than that, it explodes.”
Lucan spoke up. “It’s a hell of an incentive to check in, lemme tell you.”
“That’s how they register the count for the shifts.” The male beside her rubbed his face like his head hurt. “There’s a radio receiver in each one that confirms the location of the band.”
“But this passageway is hidden, right?” she said. “Why don’t they know where you are now?”
Kane closed his shirt collar as if he were hiding nakedness, as if he were ashamed. “It’s not that precise. But the system is more than sufficient when it comes to the boundaries of the prison. If we try to go above-ground, it will notify instantly our location and track us.”
Nyx slowly shook her head. “There has to be a way to beat it. There just has to be.”
“Kane, why don’t you tell the nice female how long you’ve been down here,” the male beside her said.
Kane’s eyes drifted to the fire pit, with its cold ashes and sooted remnants of logs. “What is the precise date.”
When Nyx told him, his shoulders slumped, and there was very little pause on the math. “Two hundred seventy-three years, eleven months, six days.”
Nyx’s breath left her lungs. “I can’t imagine.”
It was a moment before Kane seemed to refocus. “Neither can I. And the point is, there are many people down here trying to figure a way out. Determination and a fresh set of eyes on this problem are not going to change our reality, and I am sorry to have to tell you this. Getting your sister free is impossible.”
That steady stare was full of compassion, and Nyx’s heart answered the call to unburden her struggles. As tears came to her eyes, she hid them by looking at her hands.
“There has to be a way,” she said with a voice that cracked. “There just has to be.”
The female was so strong, the Jackal thought as he watched her fight to maintain composure. And the fact that he was moved by her, that he wanted to reach out and offer her support, was an unfamiliar impulse.
Then again, it seemed like she was the key to many of his locks.
I can still close those doors, he reminded himself.
As she sat there in silence, no one interrupted her internal thought processes. Then again, down here, one didn’t waste one’s energy on things that were inevitable and outside of your control.
“Let me take you back to where you came from,” the Jackal offered. “When it’s safe. Let’s get you out of here—”
“I want to see her.” The female looked up sharply. “I want to find my sister and see her.”
“There are almost two thousand people down here,” he countered. “It would take a month or more to go through all those faces, and it’s more likely the guards will notice you before you cross her path.”
“I don’t care. I’m not leaving until I see her.”
“Even if it kills you.”
“It won’t.”
The Jackal let out a hard laugh as he rubbed his aching head. “For truth, I cannot decide whether you’re courageous or crazy.”
“I’m neither. I’m just someone’s sister. If you knew you had a sibling out in the world who needed you, wouldn’t you go after them?”
“How do you even know she’s alive?” The way the female snapped to attention made him regret his choice of words. But had she never considered that possibility? “I’m sorry, but death is prevalent here. Disease, malnutrition, natural causes. You’re assuming she lives, and again, forgive me for being blunt.”
“We could take her to the Wall,” Kane suggested. “If the three of us—”
“No.” The Jackal burst up to his feet. “We’re not going into the Command’s sector with her.”
“What’s the Wall?” she demanded.
The other two males deferred to the Jackal on that. So he answered. “It’s a tally of those who have died herein.”
The female glanced around. “We have to go there.”
“No,” the Jackal said. “I shall go myself, and see if her name is listed—”
“I don’t trust you.” She got to her feet and stared at him. “You want me to leave here. How do I know you won’t lie and tell me you saw her name just to get me to go.”
“I give you my word.”
“I don’t know you well enough to judge whether your ‘word’ is worth anything more than the breath you use to speak the syllable. I want to go and see her name myself, and if it was your blood, you’d feel the same way.”
The Jackal crossed his arms over his chest. “You keep talking like we have these family ties in common. We don’t. So you’re not going to motivate me with that kind of argument.”
“Fine.” She kicked her chin up. “I’m either going to that Wall or heading to the Hub to see if I can find her face in the crowd.”
“The Hive, you mean.”
“Whatever.”
As their eyes clashed, the Jackal felt his blood stir. “You don’t want to go there.”
“I don’t want to be here. For a lot of reasons. But I am where I am.”
After a tense moment, Kane spoke up. “We can wait until the shifts change. There is time during check-out and check-in. We could sneak her through and get back out before anyone notices.”
“Great plan.” The female went over to Kane. “How long until the shifts are over?”
“It has been over a century and a half since I’ve been able to measure anything passing by an hour hand. But it would be a work night.”
“Twelve hours?”
“Or eight. Or ten. But the changeover just occurred, so it will be a full shift.”
“Then I wait. Where do I find you all again?”
The Jackal considered the merits of arguing, but given the grit of that female’s molars and the bow-of-a-tanker thrust of her chin, he was going to get nowhere trying to talk sense into her.
“We will reconvene here,” he said grimly. “And you will stay with me.”
The other males did not fight that, and he wasn’t surprised. Kane was too much of a gentlemale, and as for Lucan? Well, apparently he preferred his courting tackle right where it was.<
br />
So the wolven seemed very happy to take his leave with the aristocrat.
The Jackal waited until he heard the whisper-soft sound of the passageway’s exit opening and reclosing. Then he looked over at the female.
She was staring at the unlit fire, and he had a feeling if she knew how much exhaustion was showing on her face, she would have hidden it quick.
She seemed to shake herself back to attention. “I want to get my weapons from your cell. And I’ll stay here alone until you come get me.”
When he didn’t respond, she shook her head. “No, you’re not talking me out of anything.”
“Something tells me there are few who can do that.”
“Try none.”
He considered her for a moment. “What is your name. It seems like I should at least know it by now.”
“Nyx.” She stuck her hand out. “You?”
Leaning in, he slid his palm into hers and took note of the feel of her warm, slightly callused skin. He approved of the latter and wasn’t surprised by it. The warmth? He could have done without noticing that.
“The Jackal.” He bowed a little, as if they were making acquaintance in a drawing room. “And yes, that is my name.”
No, it wasn’t. But he didn’t use his real one. Hadn’t for . . . well, since after his transition.
“Your first name is ‘the’?” she said dryly.
“It was a nickname that stuck.”
“Down here?”
“And up there.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
There was a long silence, and as she broke off and walked around the fire pit, he studied her movements.
“How would you care for a hot bath,” he asked.
“Like this place has running water?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, it does. But more than that, the bathing pool is in an even more secure place. I’d suggest you allow me to get your pack and show you the way.”