‘Leave your case here,’ the woman says, not looking round. ‘You will follow me to the dungeon.’
‘The dungeon?’ The hairs on the back of her neck are tingling. Her stomach is flipping over and over. She’s been feeling so sick with nerves for so long it’s almost become normal.
The woman is already approaching a small wooden door that is secured with heavy bars. She draws them back and heaves the door open to reveal a flight of dank steps leading down into the realms beneath the castle. Then the woman glances back at Merle once – her gaze like steel – before starting to descend.
Swallowing hard, Merle follows her.
The steps go on for ever. Down and down, getting darker and colder and damper. The real world recedes. The only light is from some pathetic candles guttering in little recesses set into the walls. If this whole descent into the dungeon is meant to intimidate the wretched prisoner, it really works.
At the bottom of the stairs is a narrow corridor and leading off it at regular intervals are four small wooden doors with barred windows set into them. Cells.
Merle digs her fingernails into her palms as she follows the woman all the way along the corridor to the fourth and final door.
The woman turns and gives Merle a cold smile. ‘You might know this story,’ she says darkly. ‘After your parents captured Darius Cole they turned him over to the Vampire Clan Council. He was found guilty of treachery and sentenced to live. To live here. In the custody of the Black Emerald Clan.’ She yanks open the door which squeals on its hinges like it hasn’t been used in centuries. Merle gets a glimpse of a tiny dark space. A slickly wet floor. Black stone walls. A wooden bench along the farthest wall. ‘In this very dungeon cell. He rotted for twenty-five years. Let’s see how well you endure twenty-five days.’
Merle takes a deep breath, lifts her chin and stalks inside.
It isn’t until she hears the bolts being drawn that she feels her throat start to ache with the effort of not letting herself cry.
Day 2
She really didn’t think she would be able to sleep in the cell. But sometime later – must have been the next morning – she wakes up on the wooden bench. Her whole body aches.
She’s hungry and thirsty and cold. And yet, despite how awful she feels, weirdly, she can’t help thinking about Darius Cole. About the fact that she’s facing 25 days like this, when he endured 25 years.
Did vampires feel the cold? Did they feel hungry and thirsty like this?
She’s still thinking about this when the door to the cell squeals open. She must have become accustomed to the dark, because she has to screw up her eyes at the sudden invasion of light. A man is standing in the doorway.
‘Darius Cole?’ Merle says, her voice sounding scratchy thanks to her bone-dry mouth.
Despite growing up in a house of vampire hunters. Despite learning to fear Cole above all vamps. Merle had never seen a picture of him. She has no idea what he looks like. Vamps don’t photograph and all the drawings that were done of him were handed over to the Black Emerald Clan by Cobalt along with Cole himself.
The man doesn’t reply. Instead he takes another step into the cell and Merle can see him properly. He’s smiling and he’s so damn vampirey it hurts. He has a swirl of silver hair, a refined jawline and a stance that is almost too erect. There is a strange sour smell in the room that seems to have come in with him. But is he Cole? Merle feels pretty sure he isn’t going to tell her straight out.
He is carrying a small wooden tray that holds a plate of toast and a glass of water. Merle bites at her dry bottom lip and finds herself staring at the water.
The man sets the tray down on the floor and takes a few more steps towards Merle until he’s standing right in the middle of the cell. She finds herself shrinking back against the wall.
‘Hello, Miss Cobalt,’ he says. ‘Are you hungry? We don’t really have much food, I’m afraid. I sent Kristina out last night to buy something for you – but she didn’t really do very well.’ He looks down at the tray with an expression of disdain.
‘That’s OK, really. Could I have the water now?’ Merle stands up and takes a step forwards.
‘Sit down!’
Merle sits right back down at once. The wisp of intimidation that she had felt from the moment the cell door opened suddenly explodes inside her chest. God, he can be scary when he wants to be.
‘No manners, really,’ the man mutters to himself then he meets Merle’s eye. ‘You should be chained.’
‘What? Why?’
The man doesn’t bother to answer. He just walks over and in a simple and business like way begins to unfurl a set of manacles mounted into a bracket above the wooden bench. The chains are rusty. They clatter and clank as he picks up one wrist cuff. This close up, the sour smell coming from him is almost overwhelming and undercut with a taint like rotting meat.
‘I’m here of my own free will,’ Merle says, trying to talk and hold her breath against the stench at the same time. Not easy. ‘You don’t need to chain me up.’
‘Yes I do. For –’ he pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment’– for authenticity.’ And then he snaps a sudden cold metal bracelet around Merle’s right wrist.
Merle stares at it in disbelief. Feeling the weight of the metal along with the weight of what he is saying. ‘Authenticity! You mean they kept you chained for 25 years?’
‘He was chained. You should be chained so you know how it was for him. That is the point of this, I believe. That you should know what they did to him. How he suffered for you.’ He starts on the second cuff.
‘“For me”? “How he suffered for me”? So you’re not Darius Cole? And why was it for me?’
The man doesn’t answer. Answering Merle’s questions is clearly not his thing. He snaps shut the second bracelet and takes a step back. The cuffs around her wrists are attached to long chains, so long that the manacles would really only be a mild inconvenience rather than a restriction. The man smiles. ‘Very nice. They suit you.’
Merle shakes her head with exasperation. She just wants to know now. She doesn’t even care about the manacles or his creepy comments. ‘Are you Darius Cole? Was it you who was chained up down here for 25 years?’
The man laughs. ‘Maybe.’
Merle frowns. She looks past him at the tray on the floor. Suddenly she stops caring about who this man is as the glass of water starts calling to her dry throat. She looks up at her captor. ‘Are you going to let me have something to eat now?’
‘Maybe. If you earn it?’
‘If I earn it. How do I earn it?’
‘Kiss me. Kiss me nicely and I’ll bring the tray over.’
‘Kiss you. I’m not kissing you, Cole, you murdering traitor.’
‘Ah, so I am Cole?’
‘They said Cole would play stupid games, so, yeah.’
‘But all vampires love to play games with humans. Perhaps I’m just a friend of Cole’s. Perhaps I just wanted to play with his new toy while he was busy. Perhaps I actually find you just as repulsive as you do me, blood sack.’
‘So, you’re not Cole?’
‘Kiss me and I’ll tell you.’ The man bends down, his lips inching closer.
‘Get away from me!’ Merle lashes out at him, not really thinking about anything except how really, really grossed out she is. But she hits the man right in the face. Not so very hard, but it is enough of a shock that he staggers backwards. Away from her, taking his death-smell with him.
When he recovers himself – backing up even further – his face is livid.
Merle is shaking.
‘Oh, now that wasn’t nice,’ he says. He turns and makes to leave. As he passes the tray on the floor he kicks out with his foot. The water spills, the glass breaks and the toast scatters on the dirty floor. ‘Oh dear,’ he says. ‘That’s a shame.’ As he reaches the cell door and opens it he turns. ‘See you tomorrow, Miss Cobalt.’
Day 3
‘Hungry enough to kiss me now?’
He’s
back, holding a tray just like the one from yesterday.
Merle stares at him at him. She still doesn’t know for sure if he’s Cole or not. Which is weird because if someone is your own personal bogeyman they might at least be kind enough to introduce that fact properly.
‘Or thirsty? Let’s see.’ He sets the tray down on the floor like before, but this time walks over to Merle holding the glass of water.
Merle looks at it longingly. She’d actually managed to scrape up some of the water from the floor after he’d left yesterday, but it hadn’t been enough and she’s still horribly thirsty.
He’s very close to her now, but holding the glass carefully out of easy reach. ‘Just a kiss.’
She has to drink. She doesn’t have a choice. She has to kiss him. But now he’s this close the fact he might be Darius Cole isn’t half so appalling as the smell of him. Like blocked drains on a summer’s day. Merle holds her breath, screws up her face and pecks him on the cheek.
When she opens her eyes he hands her the glass and she drains it.
‘Oh,’ the man says, ‘you were thirsty. I’ll bring a bigger glass tomorrow. I am sorry. We really have no idea how much humans need to drink.’
‘Eight glasses a day,’ Merle says tautly. Like he didn’t know that.
‘As much as that.’ He pauses and looks as if he is making some kind of mental calculation. ‘I’ll have Kristina bring a pitcher down.’ He turns and walks back across the cell to collect the toast. As he picks it up he says, ‘We gave him no blood for a month. Nothing. We didn’t know what it would do. He started to hallucinate. We kept him naked and he knew we were watching him lose his mind. Do you see those marks there on the bench?’
Merle looks down next to where she’s sitting. There are a number of deep gouges in the wood. ‘Yes.’
‘He bit right into it.’
Merle’s brain seems a little clearer now she’s had some water. ‘You said “we”, “we gave him no blood for a month”. You’re one of the Black Emerald Clan.’
The man nods at her as he carries over the plate of toast.
‘I thought Cole had killed you all.’
‘Not quite all,’ says the man. Now Merle isn’t so thirsty she can feel her hunger gnawing and burrowing inside her. The toast isn’t particularly nice. Limp plasticky white bread, barely browned, but the sight of it is making her feel light-headed. The man reaches out and runs a finger down the front of her T-shirt. ‘I won’t bite you,’ he says, clearly amused by this not-very-hilarious statement, ‘then he’d kill me for sure. But now, your food, I’m afraid the price is another kiss for the old man. On the lips this time. Your food for my food.’
The man is gross, but, Merle knows, she can’t go 25 days without food. So she just sits quite still and lets him move in and kiss her on her firmly closed mouth. His lips are inhumanly cold and the smell is nauseating.
‘Ah, the warmth of it after so long on plasma packs. Too rich for an old man,’ he says as he pulls back. Then he sets down the plate of toast before turning away, almost sulkily, and stalking out of the cell.
Day 4
No longer close to delirium from hunger and thirst, Merle starts to actually get bored.
So bored that she’s almost pleased when the repulsive male vampire arrives. He’s carrying a tray that holds a jug of water, a bowl of soup, an apple and a bar of chocolate. Merle’s heart twists. Food that isn’t toast! Instantly she feels almost desperate for the food on that tray, but at the same time slightly sick with the idea of what she might have to do to get it.
The vampire smiles. ‘Cole has been a little more specific about what you are to receive for nutrition.’
Merle nods. Darius Cole. Here she is in Darius Cole’s castle and after four days she still doesn’t even know what he looks like. ‘So he isn’t ever going to come and see me himself? Not at all.’
‘Darius Cole saw no one for months at a time. He didn’t need food or water. When they did give him blood they just pushed it through that hatch there.’ He points to the door where a much smaller hatch is set into the bottom. Merle had thoroughly examined it a couple of days ago while searching for any weaknesses her prison might have. She’d found none. ‘They were scared of him. His powers to manipulate were legendary.’
‘Is that how he finally escaped? How he took over this castle?’
‘You ask such strange questions. What you should be doing is asking me what you have to do to earn this food.’
Merle swallows, looking back at the food. Her salvia glands tingle. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘You have to answer my questions.’ The vampire smiles unpleasantly and comes and sits down on the bench next to her. Merle moves away from him a little, her chains clanking and clattering. They’re making her wrists sore and achy. The vampire leans still closer – making her attempts to move away from him futile. He whispers, ‘Does the idea of Darius Cole keeping you a prisoner here excite you?’
Merle swallows hard. She’s been thinking about Darius Cole all her life. Thinking about scenarios exactly like this. Thinking about him. Obsessing. Wondering if he ever, even once, thought about her. But this imprisonment, the reality of this, well she can safely say this isn’t exciting at all. ‘I can’t imagine anything less exciting. Being here on my own, hungry, thirsty, in the dark …’
The vampire smiles and everything horrible about him seems to increase several times over. ‘Not the reality of it, the idea of it. Why do you think he wanted you?’
‘To hurt my parents.’
‘He could have imprisoned them?’
‘This is worse for them, much worse.’
The vampire cocks his head at her. ‘OK, let me put things another way, Miss Cobalt, did the idea of Darius Cole, a notorious dangerous vampire, your parent’s nemesis, wanting you to come and spend time with him in his castle excite you? Did it arouse you?’ He raises his eyebrows like he’s her co-conspirator. ‘Did you think he planned to desecrate you?’
And, oh, God, that’s the question. The one she’s been torturing herself with since they got the letter. Was part of her thrilled by the idea of this? Not the reality. The idea. Her nightmare wanting her. She knew she couldn’t hide feelings this strong. Not from a vampire. The blood rises to her face. She tries again to move away but there’s nowhere to go except off the bench onto the floor. There’s only one escape route.
Merle turns to look the vampire right in the eye, holds his gaze while the blood rushes in her ears and her cheeks grow hotter and hotter and she swallows hard and says, ‘Yes.’
The vampire stands up. ‘And now you are disappointed that he hasn’t.’
Merle gets up too. ‘No, I …’
‘That wasn’t a question.’
Day 5
When the vampire appears the next day he seems rather more vigorous. He carries a similar tray to yesterday’s and sets it down before he approaches.
‘Yesterday, the questioning, that was Cole’s orders. He wanted to know about that stuff. And he was watching me with his telepathy so you got an easy ride. Today is different. If you want this food remove your clothes.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘But when you kissed me, you said it was too much.’
‘Yes, well, perhaps I was wrong about that. Perhaps it was too little.’
Merle shakes her head, mostly in disbelief – some horror, but she’s not actually that scared because she knows she’d rather starve. ‘I’m not going to take my clothes off. There’s no way.’
‘Fine, I’ll do it for you.’ The vampire rushes across the cell at her, his dark coat billowing out behind him. Merle is sitting on the bench and he knocks her back, hard against the wall. Before she even realises it, he yanks at her T-shirt so hard that the fabric starts to tear. She’s screaming.
With a grunt of effort, he pulls her down onto the floor. She’s kicking and scratching at him. He’s so strong.
Then a familiar breathy voice above them
says, ‘Oh for goodness sake, use your weapon. Hit him like this.’ Merle looks over the vampire’s shoulder and sees Kristina standing over them, looking almost bored. She bends down and picks up some of the slack from Merle’s chains and uses the doubled length to strike the vampire’s skull. He collapses onto Merle’s chest.
‘See. Easy,’ says Kristina. ‘You know that might be why Darius wanted you to wear the chains. He used them as weapons every chance he got.’
Merle’s pushes the unconscious vampire onto the floor and gets up shakily. ‘Well, I guess I’m not an expert in these things. Dungeon self-defence.’
Kristina gives a snorting laugh. She picks up the tray of food and brings it over. ‘God,’ she says, putting it down on the bench, ‘is that all he brought you? I made much more. He was probably trying to make sure you were always hungry, the dirty sod.’ She pauses a moment then looks at Merle with one hand on a curving hip. ‘He was only doing it for the kick of playing with you, you know. He wasn’t actually attracted to you.’
‘Oh,’ Merle says, not really sure what to think about that. ‘Right.’
‘I’m just saying that because I hate the stereotype that vampires are always trying to get it on with humans. It’s the biggest lie out there. We’re not interested in you like that.’
‘Right,’ Merle says again.
Kristina claps her hands together. ‘Now eat up and I’ll try and find the rest of your food. That old corpse Oberon will probably try and claim that he doesn’t remember how much humans eat. But I do.’
As she leaves, Kristina takes hold of Oberon’s body by the legs and drags him out of the cell.
Day 6
The next day Kristina brings the food.
As Merle is eating she says, ‘OK, Darius has dealt with Oberon and he says he’ll come and see you himself later. How about that?’
‘Um, OK.’ And suddenly Merle doesn’t know what to think. Maybe she’d resigned herself to the idea that she wasn’t ever going to meet Cole face to face. That maybe that was part of the game he was playing. But maybe this is still part of the game. He’s making the rules after all.
‘He says he is sorry, too,’ Kristina says, pouring out a cup of coffee. ‘He made it pretty clear I was to tell you that.’ Kristina gives Merle the coffee and takes her empty plate away. ‘You’re getting another meal later, by the way.’
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