Judging by how close the doors were to each other, the rooms were the sizes of prison cells.
She motioned to a large door in the center of the hall, spaced farther away from the others. “This is the communal washroom.”
“We’re sharing?” Harper balked and looked uneasily at Ethan.
“The only people who have private facilities are the prisoners,” Makena said. “And I can assure you that the hall washrooms are far more luxurious than what they’re forced to use in their cells.”
“I’m sure they are,” she said. “But are there separate areas for the women and the men?”
“Of course. It’s easy to forget that you were born and raised in Utopia, since you’re wearing Haven whites,” Makena said more kindly. “Security is our highest priority in the Ward. While the wash stations are grouped close together for efficiency, you’ll have privacy at all times. Would you like to see, or should we go check on Mira?”
“We’ll check on Mira,” I said quickly, and Harper gave the door to the washroom a dirty look as we passed it.
Makena led us to a door on the far end of the hall. She pressed her thumb to a fingerprint scanner, and the door whooshed open.
As I expected, the room was tiny—only about twice as wide as the twin bed where Mira was sleeping. It was as plain and industrial as the elevator and the hall, but at least it was clean.
“Mira.” I rushed to my twin’s bedside and kneeled on the floor, so we were at the same level. She was pale, but breathing. I wanted to reach for her—to touch her to make sure she was warm and alive—but I didn’t want to hurt her. So I looked back at Makena. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s holding up well,” she said. “The dagger didn’t hit any vital organs. It was like that demon was trying not to kill her.”
“Then why’s she unconscious?” I knew enough about healing potion to know it didn’t knock people out like this. She should have woken up when we’d come in.
“She was extremely panicked, so we gave her a sedative to help her relax. She kept fighting us and begging us not to drag her underground again. I tried to explain that the Ward is the safest kingdom in the world, but she refused to believe me. So I thought it best that she sleep until she was surrounded by people she trusts.”
“She does hate being underground,” I said, remembering how stir crazy she’d been in Utopia.
At least Utopia tried to make their kingdom welcoming with their trees, gardens, and lakes.
The Ward just felt like a cold spaceship. The metal was so thick that even though we were underground, I couldn’t feel the Earth’s magic through the walls.
“Can we see the wound?” Ethan asked. “So we can verify that she’s healing.”
“Of course.” Makena walked over to Mira and lifted the bottom of her pajama top up to show her abdomen.
There was a red, mangled scar where she’d been stabbed, but the wound was closed.
“It will continue to heal during the day,” Makena said. “By nightfall, there will be no evidence left of the injury.”
“Thank you,” I said. “If there’s anything we can do for you in return…”
“We want what you want—to stop Lilith, and to win this war against the demons,” she said, and she looked to Harper. “You’ve already helped by delivering what we desired. You said she was weak?”
“I studied the dark witches in the battlefield and selected the one who looked the most scared,” Harper said. “She was easy to overpower and deliver to you.”
“Which means she should break easily.” Makena smiled. “The High Warden is getting acquainted with her in an inquisition cell as we speak. Now, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Harper yawned. From the dark circles under her eyes, she looked ready to collapse into a deep sleep the moment she got into bed.
“I’m staying with Mira,” I said. “I need to be here when she wakes.”
“Me, too,” Ethan said.
“Understandable,” Makena said. “But I need you to scan your fingerprints into the entry system so you can access your rooms. It will take less than a minute.”
We followed her down the hall. My room was next to Mira’s, and Harper’s and Ethan’s were across from ours. Getting our fingerprints in the system was simple. I peeked inside my room, unsurprised to find that it was identical to Mira’s.
“We take our meals together in the mess hall,” Makena told us. “But if you require any sustenance while in your room, there’s a tablet on the nightstand where you can place your order.”
“And then it appears out of the wall?” I joked, since there were definitely walls that created anything you wanted out of nothing in the sci-fi novels I read.
“How would it be created by the wall?” Makena looked at me quizzically. “A human will deliver it as promptly as possible.”
“Of course.” I nodded, back to being serious.
“And you can reach me by fire message for anything else.”
Another advanced spell I’d yet to come close to mastering. I’d tried back at Utopia, but all I’d ended up doing was burning the letter with my elemental magic.
My elemental fire was very different from the harmless fires witches created while sending fire messages.
“You can also send me a message via the tablet,” she continued, likely for Ethan’s benefit. “Everyone will be turning in for bed soon. The bugle will sound before breakfast, and Mira will be healed by then, so I expect to see you all there.”
She teleported out, leaving the three of us in the hall.
Harper yawned again and stretched her arms. “I need sleep,” she said. “But first, a hot shower.” She glanced at the door to the washroom, and then to Ethan.
“I won’t go in there until you’re done,” he said. “You have my word.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied, and headed for the washroom.
“Let’s see if that tablet has white hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and marshmallows,” Ethan said once Harper was gone.
“What?” I blinked, confused about where that had come from.
“Your comfort drink,” he said. “Right?”
“How do you know that?” I hadn’t had white hot chocolate since before we’d left for Utopia. And definitely never when Ethan had been around.
At least, not when this Ethan had been around.
The other Ethan—the one who loved me—always knew when I wanted my favorite drink.
Don’t think about him like that, I chided myself. The “other Ethan” isn’t real.
The reminder hurt as much as always. Especially since I loved this Ethan as much as the “other Ethan,” despite him not returning my feelings.
“You’ve told me before.” Now, Ethan was the one who looked confused.
“No. I definitely haven’t.” I watched him closely, every nerve ending feeling like it had been electrified.
What if those months we’d had together weren’t a dream? I wasn’t sure what else they could be, but in a world full of magic, wasn’t anything possible?
“Maybe Mira mentioned it,” he said, and just like that, the moment was broken. “Anyway, we both need sleep for tomorrow. I’m going to get some blankets and set them up on her floor. We’ll sleep in shifts?”
“Yeah,” I said, and then I shuffled back into Mira’s room, picked up her tablet, and placed an order for two white hot chocolates.
Because if my memories—or whatever they were—served correct, then Ethan loved my comfort drink just as much as I did.
47
Gemma
Five days.
That was how long it took for the dark witch Harper had brought to the Ward to talk.
The four of us were studying in the guest common room when Makena sent us a fire message to let us know that the prisoner wanted to speak with us. She sent vampire wardens to get us, and they escorted us into the elevator, which took us deeper into the ground than I thought possible.
Mira fidgeted more an
d more as we continued down. Even though she was fully healed, she’d been struggling to breathe while we’d been in the Ward. She was having panic attacks, which were mental instead of physical, so healing potion couldn’t do anything for her. And she refused any type of sedatives, since we needed to always be aware in case we were attacked.
Well, Ethan had told her to refuse sedatives, and she’d listened to him.
He’d been staying in her room every night, sleeping with her on that small twin bed to help her relax. I’d walked in on them once, snuggled up together with his arms wrapped around her, protecting her. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.
Seeing him with her felt so wrong.
Especially when I could still feel the ghost of his arms around me from when he’d held me every night for weeks.
Finally, after we must have been hundreds of meters below ground, the elevator hissed to a stop.
It opened, and Makena waited for us in a hall nearly identical to the guest hall. Except the doors in this hall were closer together—practically next to each other—and they shimmered with the glow of boundary domes. But these boundary domes weren’t the bright colors of a light magic spell that kept people from getting in.
They were gray and black. Dark magic spells to keep whoever was inside imprisoned.
Because the Ward was home to the highest-level security supernatural prison in the world, where the worst of the worst were locked up. None had ever escaped.
We stepped out, and the two vampire wardens—who hadn’t spoken a word to us—followed.
Makena barely acknowledged them before turning around and leading us down the hall.
The vampire wardens stayed in front of the elevator.
“We cast multiple layers of protection spells around each cell, to guarantee that the prisoners have no chance of escape,” Makena explained, motioning to the doors. “Each layer is cast by a different witch.” She walked a few more doors down. “Here we are. Cell six thousand and eighty-two.”
I glanced at Mira, and her eyes were just as wide as I knew mine were.
“How many prisoners are in the Ward?” I asked Makena.
“That’s top secret information only known by the king and the high wardens.” She stepped forward and pressed the pad of her thumb on the fingerprint scanner.
The scanner turned green.
“High Witch Makena,” a robotic female voice said from the speaker next to the door. “What is your request regarding prisoner six thousand and eighty-two, category mid-level dark witch?”
“I’d like to see and speak with the prisoner,” Makena said.
The door shimmered and disappeared.
Illusion magic.
But witches didn’t have illusion magic. So it had to be advanced technology.
A girl in a gray jumpsuit lay on a thin mattress on the floor. She stared emptily at the ceiling, her jet-black hair spread out in tangles around her head. The only other things in the small cell were a chamber pot, a rusted spigot coming out of the wall, and a tray with an empty glass and a bowl of untouched mush.
“Isobel,” Makena said. “Sit up and face the ones who captured you.”
The witch—Isobel—groaned as she pushed herself up. She was frail, with tan skin and watery gray eyes. She had metal cuffs around her wrists, although they weren’t linked together with a chain. Blood crusted her hairline, but other than that, there wasn’t a mark on her.
Most disturbingly, she appeared to be younger than me and Mira. Fourteen, or fifteen at the most.
Harper stepped forward, her gaze locked on the girl’s, her rage so intense that I could physically feel it. “You destroyed my home,” she said, her voice low and hard. “You killed my family.”
Isobel continued to stare blankly ahead. If she hadn’t obeyed Makena’s command to sit up, I wouldn’t have thought she could hear through the boundary.
“Why did you do it?” Harper slammed her fists against the boundary, and Isobel flinched backward. “Why are you working with those monsters?”
Isobel turned her gaze down to her lap and picked at her fingernails. They were also crusted with blood. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
Isobel only shrugged.
“You turned on your own kind,” Harper continued. “Your circle may have gone dark, but you’re still a witch. And you turned on us.”
It was true—witches who used dark magic weren’t inherently evil. There were some witches in every kingdom that used dark magic. They simply needed witches around them who used light magic to balance them out.
It only became problematic when an entire circle went dark, like the Foster witches and whatever circle Isobel was a part of.
“Once they get what they want, the demons will turn on you,” Harper said. “You do realize that. Right?”
“Harper,” Makena said firmly. “Isobel has already been interrogated. She’s ready to make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?” I asked. Because the scared girl cowering in the corner of her cell hardly looked ready to do much of anything.
“She’s agreed to teleport you to the gifted vampire who’s tracking you. In return, she’ll live the rest of her life in the Ward as a citizen instead of as a prisoner.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re letting her go free.”
“Not free,” Makena said. “She’ll have to teleport back here immediately after dropping you off. Then she won’t be allowed to leave the Ward, ever. If she gives us any trouble, she’ll be sentenced like any other citizen.”
“She deserves to stay locked up,” Harper muttered.
Isobel raised her head, and her gaze sharpened. “Do you want my help or not?” she asked.
“We do,” I said before Harper could get a word in. “I assume we’ll make a blood oath to make sure you stick to the deal?”
Blood oaths were one of the first things Harper and Alice had taught us. They could be done by any supernatural, no matter how strong their magic. And there was no going against a blood oath. If you did, your blood would turn against you and kill you in one of the most painful ways possible—by boiling you alive from the inside.
Blood oaths weren’t used often—a pure display of trust was preferred amongst potential allies—but certain situations called for them. Such as this one.
“Of course a blood oath will be necessary,” Makena said. “Isobel has a long way to go before she can be trusted.”
“She can never be trusted,” Harper said.
“Don’t let your grief harden you to the potential inside of everyone,” Makena said kindly. “Other than the demons and angels, no one is purely good or purely evil. When guided by someone who believes in them, even the darkest of souls has the potential to see the light.”
Harper paused, and for a moment, I thought she was going to agree. Then she glanced at Isobel, who looked all ratty in her cell, and her expression hardened again. “Just because they have the potential to see the light doesn’t mean they will,” she said.
“That’s true. But we owe it to them to try.”
“She deserves to rot in this cell,” Harper said. “But do with her what you will. All I care about is that she brings us to the gifted vampire.”
Isobel glared at Harper, and the cuffs around her wrists glowed. She trembled, her expression twisted in pain, and she dropped her hands back down to the floor.
Harper looked at the cuffs suspiciously. “What was that?”
“The cuffs stop witches from using their magic,” Makena said.
“But there’s no spell for that.”
“No spell that you know of,” she said. “Or that you’re capable of performing.”
“I’m a high witch of Utopia,” Harper said. “I’m capable of performing any spell.”
Makena raised an eyebrow. “Who says a witch performed the spell?”
Harper opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hand went t
o the chain around her neck—the one with Hecate’s key dangling underneath her shirt.
I had a pretty good idea about what her question might be when we saw Hecate next.
“We’re not accomplishing anything by standing around,” Ethan said before Harper could speak. “What are the conditions of the blood oath?”
“I’ll bring you, Harper, and one of the twins to the gifted vampire, Jamie Stevens,” Isobel said. “Then I’ll return to this cell immediately.”
I stiffened. “Why only one of us?”
“No idea.” Isobel shrugged and glanced at Makena. “Ask her.”
I stared Makena down, waiting for an answer.
“You’re going straight into Lilith’s lair. She clearly wants something with you, and she wants you alive. If she didn’t, then that demon wouldn’t have missed all of Mira’s vital organs,” Makena said. “If something goes wrong, and both of you are captured, then Lilith will have what she wants. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“So why don’t I go on my own?” Harper asked. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.”
“Because I didn’t agree to that plan,” Isobel said smugly. “It’s you, the prince, and one of the twins, or nothing.”
“The prince?” I repeated, staring dumbfoundedly at Ethan.
Ethan’s hands curled into fists. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“You’re a prince?” Mira asked. “And you don’t think it matters?”
Isobel giggled, and I wondered if she was fully sane. “He’s right,” she finally said. “It doesn’t matter. At least, not in the state that Ember’s in right now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The dragons have no power.” She ran her index finger over the cuff on her other wrist. “They’re slaves in their own realm. They haven’t had power for centuries.”
I glanced at Ethan to confirm if she was telling the truth. From his hard expression, and the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, she was.
“Then who does have power?” I asked Isobel.
“No one you ever want to meet,” she said darkly. “Trust me on that.”
I studied her, sizing her up.
The Dragon Twins (Dark World: The Dragon Twins Book 1) Page 18