“Thank you,” I said, my forehead starting to bead with sweat.
I smiled at the guard and, before he could say another word, scurried home. Once I shut myself in the cellar, blocking out the sunrise, I reluctantly crawled into my cot. There would be no sleep for me today, my mind a jumble of questions. I needed more information. I needed to know if that soldier in the jail was indeed Guy. But how could I find out without getting caught? I racked my brain for options and kept coming up short. But then it dawned on me.
Cloe.
Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Cloe was the one assigned to feed the prisoners at the jail. If Guy was in there, she might be the one attending him. She would be the one I needed to talk to. And now that I taught her how to block Horus from her mind, she might be inclined to give me the information I needed. My first instinct was to fly from the house in search of my friend, but I couldn’t.
I huffed in annoyance at my vampire limitations, knowing I would need to stay under the cover of darkness for the next twelve hours or so. I huffed again, louder this time, thinking I would likely go crazy waiting until sunset.
I threw myself down on my pillow and reached to my side to grab an old mug I’d placed there. Inside lay the pieces of my broken rosary, reminding me of Guy. I pulled out the tiny cross in my hands and pressed it to my heart as though it would bring me closer to him. My eyes grew misty but I blinked away my tears, not allowing myself to be overcome by emotion. I must stay strong and find a way into the jail.
I breathed in deeply and glanced around the room, spotting the old box of tools in the corner. I got up and dug through them, retrieving a pair of pliers. I settled myself back in bed and laid out the pieces of the necklace on my lap. One by one, I repaired each link and strung each bead, mending my broken treasure. And next time I saw Horus, I would wear it proudly around my neck. My spirits would not be crushed, my faith would not be broken, and if indeed Guy Stone was the prisoner in the cell, no force on earth would stop me from breaking him free.
TWENTY-TWO: RUBY
I awoke from a troubled sleep to the sound of a coyote howling in the distance, a familiar sound from my childhood that created a pang of homesickness in my gut. But it didn’t faze me much anymore, my loneliness having become a close companion, something I resigned to live with.
I peeled open my eyes and scanned the cellar around me, my pupils dilating and my sight adjusting to the darkness. I sat up, the chain of my rosary sliding down my neck to rest on my chest. I’d finished fixing it that morning, every last bead and link in the chain now intact. Though scuffed and bent, it was whole again, and I touched the wooden crucifix with my fingertips, reminding myself of the love I’d lost. My soul pined for Guy, my Captain and savior, but I shook the heartache from myself. I needed to keep focused on the task at hand, which was to find out who the prisoner was. I wasn’t due to report for blood slave duty for a couple of hours and I needed to find Cloe. Time was of the essence and a man’s life could be on the line. Guy’s life could be on the line.
After quickly lacing up my boots and readying myself for the night, I climbed from the cellar into the kitchen to find the house empty. I glanced around, noting how dark it was. Jax and Orie were gone and I realized I must’ve slept later than I intended. Orie and I had become close over the past couple of weeks and he’d always bid me goodbye in the evening before he trudged off to work. Yet it was clear he’d left in a rush. Something was wrong, I could feel it.
I made my way from the house and around the large chasm running up the street. I wondered where I’d find Cloe this time of night so I went to our usual meeting place, the laundry well. The park stood vacant, the clothesline hung with dried socks and dresses that fluttered in the breeze. I shivered, but not from the cold. I shivered at the darkness settling inside of me.
I rushed toward Allen Street, the smell of roasting meat hanging on the air. Everything seemed as it should be. The werewolves were up to their noisy antics in the Crystal Palace Saloon. The shopkeepers hollered, inviting you to come on in and survey their newest supplies. Lady vampires clustered together in groups, gossiping like squawking ravens, and witches bustled this way and that, preparing for dinner that night.
I came upon Big Nose Kate’s, the place Cloe trained me to pick up the food for the humans. Bodies crowded the space, but Cloe was not amongst them. I sighed deeply and went back outside, feeling lost on the wooden sidewalk, frustrated. I had to find her. I needed to know who was in the jail.
Just then, Orie flew by me looking upset, but even more so, angry. I called out to him and he stopped abruptly, his yellow eyes gleaming at me from beneath his dark brows. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out and I couldn’t help but think he looked like someone had stepped on his sandcastle. His strong chest heaved beneath his shirt, his security pin glistening in the lamp light. His face drew in as though holding back tears. I’d never seen him like this.
“It’s Cloe,” he croaked. “She’s… hurt.”
Though I had no idea what was going on, Horus immediately came to mind. My fangs throbbed in anger.
“I… I have to go,” Orie said, his voice breaking. “I’m on my way to the infirmary to see her right now.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I followed him to the far end of town past Vampire Hall where Pandora’s recruitment office stood, never having been this far North before. I wanted to ask him where we were going and what had happened to our dear friend, but we were moving too fast.
The streets became more distorted and damaged as we went, their conditions similar to the ones in the werewolf and courthouse district. The fronts of homes and buildings sagged and crumbled, looking like sad faces mourning their own losses.
After a few minutes we arrived at the front of an old two-story Church House, the sign on the front saying Old Church Rectory, dedicated 1881. We went through a gate and crossed the courtyard, arriving at the front door. I followed Orie inside to a small office. To my surprise, the witch leader Morin sat at a desk beneath a collage of spiritual pictures. She raised her head at our arrival, her attention flickering between me and Orie, but if she recognized me from the trial, she gave no hint of it.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Orie replied hurriedly. “There was a young vampire brought to the infirmary just a bit ago. Her name’s Cloe. Can we see her?”
The old witch cocked her head to the side and studied us. After a few moments, her eyes softened with sympathy at our distress. “We don’t normally allow visitors when the patient is in such a fragile condition. But she’s stable now. I guess it would be alright.”
Orie’s chest dropped in relief. “Thank you.”
Morin stood and led us out a side door into the night. We moved across a span of grass to another tall white building, marked with a sign saying Sacred Heart Church. She turned to us before opening the doors.
“We just ask that you please keep your voices down.”
My heart pumped furiously, and I worried about what state we would find Cloe in. Morin opened the doors, an aromatic blast of incense and herbs hitting us in the face.
I followed the scent to a large cauldron hanging above a fireplace to our left, colored smoke floating from its surface. Sage and other dried plants hung in bundles from overhead shelves and statues of Jesus and other deities unknown to me stood with arms raised. Bottles of powders and liquids littered the tables and the witches worked busily with their concoctions.
I scanned the building beyond the witch’s workstation, seeing what appeared to be a makeshift hospital inside the old church. On both sides, wooden pews flanked the long nave in which we stood. Tall walls held sharply-pointed gothic windows constructed from colorful stained glass. They were boarded up from the outside to keep out any light.
At the front where we stood, half the pews were shoved aside allowing for the many beds placed there. Some held the forms of sick werewolves and witches and some lay vacant, but I sensed no vampires
.
“Where is she?” Orie, asked, voicing my unspoken question.
Morin shifted her weight, the bells on her long skirt jingling. “It’s rare that we have vampires here, so we’ve made a special place for her in the back room.”
The witch took us down the side of the nave to a door near the pulpit, leading us inside. White tapered candles lit the tiny room and I gasped at the sight of our friend. Cloe lay on a bed, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling softly beneath a thin white sheet. The soft light from flickering candles highlighted her scarred profile. Purple bruises marred her face and gruesome cuts marked her arms. A gash ran up her forehead into her hairline.
“Cloe,” Orie whispered, tentatively reaching out to her.
Morin slid Orie a sympathetic glance. “She can’t hear you, honey.”
Orie frowned. “What? I thought you said she was stable?”
Morin stood to Cloe’s side and gazed down at her sadly. “Stable yes. Conscious no.”
“What happened to her?” I finally spoke, my heart sinking to my feet.
The witch looked at us for a few moments and then turned away. She tucked the sheets in tightly around Cloe’s body. “I am not exactly sure. We found her lying on the steps outside when we opened the doors a few hours ago.”
“She needs blood to speed the healing,” I said, stepping toward her, ready to rip open my wrist and feed her. I speculated Morin knew very well who did this to Cloe, but held back for some reason. It angered me even more.
“No,” Morin protested my attempt, both Orie and I looking at her in shock. She averted our stares. “Her maker showed up not long after she did. He instructed me to let her heal on her own. He told me under no circumstances was she allowed any blood.”
“Horus…” I said barely above a whisper.
If Morin heard me, she gave no response, instead reaching for a jar on the side table and unscrewing the lid. She finally caught our gazes and winked. “But he said nothing about potions.” She dipped two fingers into the creamy salve and proceeded to rub it on Cloe’s wounds.
“That’s ludicrous!” Orie cried out, and I got the sense that witch potions weren’t as powerful of a healing tool as blood was. The young werewolf growled. “It was he who did this to her. We can’t just stand by and watch her suffer.” His golden eyes blazed as he plucked a knife from his belt and held it to own his wrist. The witch grabbed his hand to stop him. She looked scared.
“Please. No. I’m afraid of what might happen to you if Horus finds out you fed her your blood.”
It was now apparent that Horus probably threatened the witch, and I couldn’t help but think that no one was safe while that insane vampire was around.
“I don’t care!” Orie growled, his body twitching. Sharp claws grew from his fingers and his face bulged red, indicating he was about to lose control and turn into his wolf form. That wouldn’t do any of us any good, especially not Cloe.
“Orie,” I stepped forward and placed a hand gently on his shoulder, pulling his attention to me. His eyes met mine, and then Morin’s, and then dropped to the ground as though in realization. His face calmed and his claws receded.
“I have to do this,” he rasped.
I sighed, thinking Orie was asking for it, but nodded just the same. I would’ve done the same thing if it were Guy lying there. I stepped back giving Orie his space with Cloe, and glanced to Morin, signaling she should do the same. She hesitated for a moment, but stepped back as well.
Orie gazed down at the woman he loved as though holding back so many words he wanted to say. He ran a finger down the side of her face, careful not to touch any wounds, and then smoothed out her hair. He held his breath, brought the knife up to his wrist, and I winced as he made a small slice. The blood trickled down his flesh and dripped onto the floor. He lowered his wrist to her mouth and let the blood trickle past her lips, but she did not move, nor swallow, nor give the slightest hint she was able to ingest the healing lifeblood.
“Come on,” he coaxed her. “Drink.”
Suddenly as if on cue, she coughed and sputtered, the red liquid dripping down her chin. Her throat bobbed up and down, and she swallowed. Orie let out a laugh of joy and I joined in, giggling, unable to contain myself. I looked upon my friend’s swollen and battered face, noticing the gash in her forehead lessening in size.
“Look Orie! She’s healing!”
“Yes,” the witch agreed. “The blood is working. Though rather slowly it appears.”
All of our gazes were glued to Cloe. Her scratches had slowly decreased in size, but her eyes stayed closed, her body lax and weak. She gave no sign of awareness. Orie let some more blood into her mouth allowing her to swallow again before pulling away. He pressed his wrist into his shirt to compress the bleeding and turned to Morin. “Will she wake?”
“I’m not sure,” the old woman mused, pushing her gnarled hair from her face. “Given some time perhaps, but she was badly wounded. I don’t know exactly what happened to the poor thing, but it appears someone gave her a potion to disable her healing. And from the looks of it, she was given more than she could handle. She is healing at the speed of a human. A very ill human.”
“The suppressant,” Orie seethed through gritted teeth, and I grunted my shared anger, though I wasn’t sure exactly what this “suppressant” entailed.
“There is nothing else to be done tonight,” Morin said sadly, eyeing us both. “All Cloe needs now is time to heal.”
I read the witch’s insinuating stare and took Orie by the arm. “Let’s go. We can come back tomorrow to check on her.” Orie hesitated, but I spoke in a soft and reassuring voice. “She’s in good hands, Orie. It’s okay. She needs to rest now.”
Orie’s chest heaved and he relaxed in resignation. “I will be back tomorrow night. If she’s not better, I will feed her again.”
The witch nodded and led us from the room, closing the door behind us. She led us to the front of the church and out the doors, bidding us a goodnight. But before she closed the church doors, she whispered, “Speak of this to no one.”
Orie and I nodded, our concern thick and palpable. My mind whirled with questions, wracked with doubt and fear. My throat clenched with concern over my friend’s well-being. It was painful to see her suffering so.
And although it felt selfish at such a time, I couldn’t help Guy arising to mind. Now that unconsciousness had taken Cloe, there was no way for me to find out the identity of the mystery soldier. And from what I gleaned from our conversation the other night, Orie didn’t know the prisoner’s identity, either. Frustration filled me like a balloon ready to pop, yet I held strong, hoping at least the human’s vote would go in my favor. But with my current luck, even that seemed like a long shot.
“You think Horus did this to her and then dropped her here so she could be watched?” I asked Orie, but already knew the answer to my own question.
“That’s exactly what happened,” Orie growled. “Bastard.”
A presence materialized before us as though if by magic, taking me by surprise. Pandora. I exhaled sharply at her sudden appearance, still trying to get used to the way vampires moved about. Pandora studied us with her dark green eyes and whipped her long red hair back from her shoulders.
“How is she?” Pandora asked, her normally unaffected voice holding a hint of concern.
“You heard?” Orie asked. “You know who did this, right?”
“Word travels fast,” Pandora answered. She glanced back at the Church House. “And there is no direct proof as to who did this until Cloe herself can confirm it.”
“She’s unconscious,” Orie said. “But the witch believes she’ll heal in time. She’s resting now.”
Pandora glanced my way but said nothing more on the matter. She sighed and rubbed her fingers over her temples. Apparently, Orie and I weren’t the only ones who had a problem with Horus’ actions. But what could we do until Cloe woke up? For all we knew it would be days from now until she opened
her eyes. In the mean time I needed to find out who the soldier was.
It suddenly dawned on me… Pandora was head of job placement and probably the one who gave Cloe the job of seeing to the human prisoner. And now that my friend proved unable to fulfil that job, a position was left to fill, and I knew just the vampire to do it.
“Now that I know Cloe is being taken care of, I must go. I have a meeting to oversee.” Pandora turned to leave, but I couldn’t let her. Now was my chance.
“What about Cloe’s duties at the jail? Who will be taking over for her?”
Pandora stopped and cast her green gaze at me. “Honestly I hadn’t even thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “I suppose I will have to fill in for her.”
I stuck my hands in the pockets of my long skirt. “I can help out. Now that I’m trained, my blood slave duty doesn’t take very long.”
I studied Pandora’s expression as she mulled over my suggestion, my heart pounding in my chest. If she allowed me to fill in for Cloe, I would finally detect if Guy was the soldier in the jail. And if he was, I would then erect a plan to get him out.
“I’m not so sure if—” Pandora started.
“I know how busy you are,” I cut in. “And it can’t be much different from feeding the blood slaves. I really don’t mind the extra work. I like to be kept busy.”
She considered me for a long moment and just when I was certain she’d disagree, she sighed. “I suppose that could work. It would definitely be a big help to me.” My heart swelled, and I found myself thinking this was an even better plan than dragging Cloe into the middle of my dirty work.
Pandora shifted her weight, pausing for a moment. “I will inform the guards you will be coming. There is only one prisoner right now, and all you need to do is take them a plate and some water just after sunset.”
“Great.” My face turned up with a smile, but Pandora spiked a brow at my happy continence. I quickly wiped the smile from my face, changing the subject. “Um, so how did the vote go for the blood slaves’ new living quarters?”
Broken Souls Page 13