by Rye Brewer
“Arrangement?” Gage snorted. “You make it sound as if any of us has a say in this. As if we entered into your arrangement of our own free will. Why don’t you call it what it is? A kidnapping. Testing. Torture.”
“We’ll play nice,” I promised, glancing at Gage. I hoped he didn’t hold it against me, my appearing to take my father’s side in what was turning into an argument, but he’d see it was for the best. We couldn’t let ourselves get carried away by emotion.
“So long as we’re unchained,” Gage added.
I flinched, then held my breath. Was that one step too far?
My father frowned, his eyes traveling over the room. Asking himself if we could be trusted, if there was any way for us to take advantage of this. “I don’t see why not,” he decided.
“Really?” Raze asked.
My heart ached for him. It was so obvious that we were all reaching the end of our ropes.
A pair of his workers—again, I didn’t know what to call them—entered the room. “We would like to draw blood before any further feeding takes place today,” one of them murmured to my father, who nodded in agreement.
I got the chance to see what was inside those drawers, and it didn’t come as much of a surprise. Rows of syringes, tiny glass bottles. I couldn’t read the labels from so far away.
“Please, can you unchain us now?” I pleaded with my father. “I would love a shower more than anything in the world.”
“Draw her first,” he ordered, motioning to me. “You can free her then. But be careful.”
What did that mean? Obviously, they would have to be careful if we were free. That ought to go without saying.
Not a moment later, the second of the lab coat-wearing men withdrew a gun from his waistband and clicked the safety off. Oh. That was what he meant. If we acted up, we would be shot.
I glanced at Gage as the syringe entered my arm and tried to give him a reassuring smile. If we played nice, none of us would get shot. No big deal.
Right?
I could hardly wait for my wrist to be freed. It felt like a lifetime since I had been able to do something as simple as walk from one end of a room to the other. To stretch my arms and legs and get up if my butt felt like it was about to fall asleep.
When the metal cuff was released, I let out a sigh of relief and rubbed my wrist with the other hand. “Thank you,” I found myself whispering, before I reminded myself that I shouldn’t get too comfortable with thanking them for little mercies.
Wasn’t that how Stockholm Syndrome started? I had no intention of becoming friendly with them or relating to them. They were the enemy—even my father. Especially him. A shower and the simple ability to get up and walk around when I felt like it didn’t erase the horrible things they’d done.
I felt Dad looking at me the entire time. Studying me. I pretended not to notice, just like I pretended not to want to look at him. It would’ve been so easy to beg him to show mercy, to throw myself at his feet and remind him of all the times we once had together.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. It wouldn’t have worked anyway—after all, it took days for him to move us to this room, and I refused to believe the installation of a few cameras really required so much time. Not when he had so many people at his disposal.
He’d either spent all that time debating with himself over whether it was prudent to move us, or he’d wanted to see how long he could keep us waiting.
“There are clean clothes in the bathroom closet,” he told us as he left, following his lackeys. “Enjoy bathing.”
I rolled my eyes as the door swung shut—but the minute we were on our own, I went to Gage and threw my arms around him. “I know I stink, but I just had to—”
“I know,” he groaned against my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I didn’t think we would ever get the chance to do this again.”
“You can’t think that way, no matter what.” I pulled back to look him in the eye. “I mean it. Don’t let yourself lose hope. See how much better things are now? And we were so hopeless until they came to bring us in here.”
“Don’t let yourself get too excited.” He looked around the room with a sneer on his face. “It’s still a cage.”
“I know that—I was just thinking it a few minutes ago. Just because they’re letting us take showers and not chaining us anymore, that doesn’t mean we’re pals now.”
“Since you feel that way about it, I’m going to get in the shower.” Naomi all but fled to the door and closed it, then flipped the lock.
“I hope there aren’t cameras in there,” Raze sighed.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Stupid me, not thinking about that.
“At least she’ll have one pleasant shower without having to think about it,” Gage offered with a frown, shaking his head.
I leaned against his chest, closing my eyes. He stank like death warmed over, but I didn’t care. I could’ve stayed there forever.
Forever wasn’t nearly long enough.
The door leading to the hall flew open, banging on the wall next to it and bouncing off because it had been thrown so hard. My father stormed into the room, and his face was almost as red as his burgundy-colored tie.
“Get him out of here!” He pointed to Gage. “Take him back. I won’t have this.”
“Wait. What?” I gaped in horror as one of the guys in lab coats bum-rushed me, which sent me flying back onto one of the beds.
“What are you doing to him?” Raze demanded, but another pair of lab coats stopped him.
“Why are you taking him?” I turned to my father as I got back on my feet, while Gage tried his best to fight off the hands gripping his arms. He was too weak, he hadn’t fed enough in far too long. He was no match for them.
He turned that red, sweaty, beady-eyed face on me next. He looked nothing like himself. Anger did that to him—no, rage. “You thought you could fool me? Convince me to bring you here so you could take advantage and cuddle with your filthy bloodsucker?”
My mouth fell open. “That’s what this was about? You’re taking him away because I love him? I told you I love him! You knew it!”
“I refuse to stand here and listen to this filth.” He pointed to the door, which I guessed meant they were supposed to take Gage away.
No! It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t do this without him—especially if I didn’t know what they were doing to him. Whether he was alive or dead.
I looked around, panicking, out of breath, knowing I was about to black out and not knowing what to do about it. My entire world was ending right in front of me, and I was powerless to do anything about it. I could only stand there and take it, because they had the power.
And guns. With deadly, vampire-specific ammunition, no doubt.
I turned to one of the two keeping me away from Gage and pulled the pistol from his waistband before he had the chance to do anything about it.
“Stay back!” I screamed, flipping the safety off and waving the gun around.
“Carissa!” Dad gasped, eyes wide.
“Cari?” Gage asked.
Even the two lackeys holding him stared at me, stunned.
“Don’t make me do this,” I snarled, looking back and forth, ready to fire if that was what it came down to. “All you have to do is let Gage stay.”
“You can’t think this will do any good,” my father whispered. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“You think I’m foolish?” I asked, glancing at him. “I haven’t shown you foolish yet. Watch this.”
I pointed the gun to my head and pressed the muzzle to my temple. “I’ll pull the trigger unless they let him go, Dad. I mean it.”
And I did.
16
Elewyn
“Sara!”
My voice echoed through the long, empty halls of the castle. It doubled and tripled upon itself until I could almost imagine mine was not the only voice ringing out.
That I was not the only living
being in the castle—other than the guards, who tended to keep to themselves. I had little use for them and was glad of it. The castle, and the island upon which it sat, was at peace.
And empty. Quite empty.
I turned a corner and found myself in a familiar passageway, one whose length I’d walked countless times. This was where Elazar’s cell had sat, where he’d lived for endless decades.
I knew it like the back of my hand.
I’d once imagined walking these very stone floors in another time. A time in which my brother was free. When I would rule Shadowsbane Island, when the Senate was no more. And I had relished the mental images, had held onto them and cherished them when the going got toughest. Whenever I’d been certain of losing my mind if forced to hear Samara’s voice just once more.
How the very sight of her had curdled my blood. How I’d fought the desire to kill her until the time was just right. And then I’d tasted the vengeance I’d craved for so long.
How was I to know it would be short-lived?
“Sara!” I called out again, louder than before. It was not like her to ignore me, nor did she often venture far beyond the castle walls. I stepped outside, onto one of the stone balconies which had once served as guard posts.
From there, I could see much of the island and its cottages. Shabby, all of them, still in need of repair. But who would live there? Who would make their home on such a remote island?
She was not among them—her hair would have caught my eye. Her nearly silver hair.
That had been the first sign of her power blossoming into its fullness. Her dark hair had gone blonde seemingly overnight, and along with that change had come so many others. A change in bearing, even in the timbre of her voice. No longer did it hold an edge of innocence, of uncertainty.
She was no longer ignorant of her powers, nor of what they could bring her.
And now, she was missing.
“What was I thinking?” I muttered to myself, sweeping back into the castle and cursing her under my breath.
I rued the day I’d ever agreed to undertake her training. How was I to know she wouldn’t be as pliable and impressionable as I’d imagined when she first came to me?
My study was the only location in the castle where I felt I could truly be at peace, even with nothing but silence all around me. The fire blazed merrily, warming the ever-present chill in the air. I stood nearby, soaking in the fire’s warmth before turning to my desk.
There was no work to be done. I’d done it already—freeing the prisoners, which then emptied the cottages in which their loved ones had lived. They’d cleared out long since. I could see to the improvements of said cottages, but again it seemed a waste of time. For who would ever see them? Who would call them home?
I didn’t want anyone to call them their home, for that would mean being forced to live among others. I had never much enjoyed that. I preferred to be alone.
I’d gotten what I wanted.
As if reading my thoughts as I stood before the desk, a man spoke from inside the doorway. “You finally got what you wanted.”
I recognized the voice instantly and, whirling about, set my eyes on a sight I’d been longing for. He was the missing piece, yes. He would make everything better. He knew I needed him.
Still, there was nothing to be gained by making a fool of myself. I wore a smile as I took him in—his dark clothing, his serious expression. “Stark. Such a pleasure. What brings you here?”
He would not be swayed by pleasantries, that much was clear from the start. In fact, he looked downright sour. “You heard what I said.”
I blinked. “You said I finally got what I wanted. Do you know what I truly want? For you not to barge into my home and speak that way to me.”
“Your home. Your home?” He snorted with a shake of his head. “I should have known you would position yourself as queen of the castle. Queen of Shadowsbane Island.” Another snort. “A dubious distinction, to say the least.”
I could not pretend his comments did not sting. They stung most terribly, in fact, sinking long, sharp daggers in my pride. He’d always possessed a talent for striking precisely where he knew it would hurt the worst.
I summoned all my poise, raising my chin that I might look down on him and his casual cruelty. “Dubious or not, it is my home, and if you will not at the very least extend the courtesy I’m owed, I shall have to ask you to leave.”
“I plan to leave—quite soon, in fact. There are matters which need my attention, and I haven’t much time to waste.”
“And you’ve come to see me when there are so many pressing issues in need of your attention,” I cooed. “How generous of you.”
“Spare me the wordplay today, Elewyn. I haven’t the time and, frankly, I’m out of practice.” He strode to the nearest window, clasping his hands behind his back. His bearing spoke of discipline and an innate sense of pride, of knowing who he was and his place in the world. Even the manner in which he regarded the island, its cottages visible beyond the wall which surrounded the castle, brought to mind a man accustomed to looking out over that which he owned.
Even though he had not owned anything for many, many years. It was simply his nature to be prideful, even a bit arrogant.
Much like myself, hence my never-ending attraction to him. No matter how much time passed, no matter how unlikely our pairing seemed, I would always want him over all others.
If only he would allow me inside his head and his heart. Just for a moment, just long enough that he might see how ideal we were together. I’d always seen it. I’d felt it from the very first.
But as always, he insisted on shutting me out. Which only pushed me to get a response, any response. In any way I could.
“What brings you here, then? Let us get down to it.” I sat behind my desk, hands folded atop its scarred surface. “What can I do for you? You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do if you wished.”
“That isn’t true, for there’s nothing you can say or do to erase the damage you’ve caused.”
I rolled my eyes in spite of the dread his words inspired. “What have I done this time? Honestly, to hear you talk one would believe every hardship from the beginning of time until this moment was my doing.”
“Not every hardship.” The look he gave me was cold. Calculating. “But a few. Quite a few.”
“Which of my evil doings have you come to throw in my face?”
“Perhaps we could start with what you’ve done to Sara.”
I should have known. “I did nothing to her beyond what she requested. Training. I have trained her.”
“You’ve turned her into something I hardly recognize.”
She went to him. I should have known that, too. She’d slipped away, and she went to him. To what purpose, though? “That is no fault of mine. Who she has become is her choice and hers entirely. She’d done exactly as she wanted every step of the way—including her agreement that you be no part of her life, which leads me to wonder why you’ve come if you hadn’t seen her. When you were not supposed to see her while she was under my guidance.”
“Under your control, you mean.” His fists tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened, and it was enough to cause me to wonder who he imagined strangling with those hands. Who he intended to strike.
“If you had such qualms regarding my methods, why did you not bring them to my attention prior to leaving her here?”
“Spare me, Elewyn. You knew all along how I felt, and I very much got the impression you enjoyed know how I disapproved.”
“Why would I—”
“I asked you to spare me.” He squared off with me then, face-to-face, boring holes into me with his eyes. They could flash and burn, those eyes.
“What do you wish to hear?” I threw my hands into the air. “She wanted to train with me. She gladly accepted my conditions, so long as she got her way. Which she did. I saw to that.”
“And look where you’ve led her.”
“She is
n’t a child,” I whispered. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of that. She lived an entire lifetime prior to developing her elemental powers. She was well old enough to make a choice. And make it, she did.”
“Yes, that she did, and now she’s all but mad with the need to destroy the Starkers.”
I fixed him with my coldest stare, even as my stomach twisted. That was her plan. That was why she’d left without saying a word. She went to him first that she might inform him of her desire, then she’d gone on to find her target.
“She was already half-mad with the desire for vengeance when she arrived. We both know it. That was why she was so eager to accept my conditions. She would do anything—absolutely anything—so long as it meant learning to control her powers that she might put them to use. She has. I’m quite impressed.”
“And I suppose she just happened to discover entirely by accident where the Starkers can be found?”
I lifted my shoulders. “She asked where they’d settled once the group went, for lack of a better word, underground. I told her I’d heard reports of them making their home in Italy. A rather vague response, wouldn’t you say? And even if it wasn’t vague, what of it?”
“You mean to tell me, honestly and truly, that you had nothing to do with her deciding to go there?” His laughter was derisive.
“It would appear that it matters not what I say. You arrived with the conclusion set in your mind. You wish to blame Sara’s obsession on me, as it lessens the guilt resting on your shoulders.”
“I did not turn her against them.”
“You created them. You might have left the group behind, but there is still a stain on your hands. Blood. The blood of every vampire you destroyed at the hands of a Starker.”
“Elewyn. I am warning you.”
“I care nothing for your warnings,” I snapped. “You came here to blame me for what you’ve done. Yet you know me well enough by now to know I do not shrink away from admitting my actions.”
“I can recall rather recent actions from which you shrank away.”