“Come on.” Jason grabbed my arm and lifted me from the stone floor. My legs worked, permitting me to stand, though my dying spirit stayed on the ground. “It’s time to go.”
“Where?” I asked, but he ignored me, forcing my head down as he bowed to the King.
“Your Majesty,” Jason said.
Drake bowed his head once. “You may go.”
Jason’s hand made a cuff around my arm, and as we reached the door, Drake called out, stopping us in our tracks.
“I will call on you later, Amara. And when I do”—his eyes narrowed with a wicked smile—“try not to scream, we have guests.”
I looked at Jason, my mouth falling open.
He just smiled at the path ahead.
23
Shadows danced over my face in the dim spaces between each lantern on the wall, while the endless walk down eerie corridors filled my mind with sordid fears. Each door we passed was closed, housing some dark secret they didn’t want me to know, or maybe some dreadful nightmare I was just about to meet. Death and tragedy lingered in these walls like a paste that sticks to the roof of your mouth. I knew it was there, I could feel it, taste it, but couldn’t escape it.
We veered left through a tapered arch that led down to a stone staircase and into the dark, cold underground. The bitter chill of earth beneath rose up, circling my arms and chin the way fear gripped the fugitive. Jason held me so close to his body that our ankles hitched with each step, his fingers twined so tightly around my arm that his nails pierced the underside.
“You’re hurting my arm,” I said quietly.
“Let’s play a game called see how long it takes you to realize I don’t care.”
I looked down at my dirty feet. The bare tips of my toes stung like ice with each step, only making his words wound me deeper. “You cared once.”
He just laughed, maintaining our purposeful speed.
The stairwell took us deeper and deeper below the castle, a seemingly endless descent, the air in my lungs tasting dry and gritty down here as if I’d pressed my face in a bed of topsoil. I walked willingly, worn down and weak with apathy, devoid of all fight, or even the will to fight. I wanted to die.
Jason was right. I was an abomination created to kill that which I loved. Created to kill vampires. Intended to kill David. They’d keep me alive here until they were done with me, but their torture could not measure up to the pain of knowing what would happen to David. He was being punished because of me, because I came into his life, because my mom died, and I moved here and met him. If I’d never come, he’d be on the Council—ruling, climbing the ranks and, one day, serving at the right hand of the king.
“My God, girl.” Jason dragged me down the last step and shoved me forward under a stone arch. “Could you be any more self-defeating?”
“Stay out of my head and it won’t bother you.” I folded my arms.
He shook his head at me, then walked deeper into the darkness, leaving me on my own in the center of the wide space, with nothing but the wrap of a ghostly chill to comfort me. If I focused intently on the dark, I could make out only two walls, but the sound in the room and the general feel was enclosing. It wasn’t until a flame torch came ablaze at Jason’s fingertips that I could truly see this shadowy dungeon. Brick upon brick of thin gray stone outlined the room on all four sides—the foundations that held up a decaying, dirt roof.
“Welcome to Hell,” Jason said, taking a small bow.
“Not as fiery as I imagined it,” I said, making Jason laugh.
He moved across the space then and another torch came to life, casting light on the glossy slime oozing down the walls before fingering its way along the objects around me. My shoulders lifted to my ears. The room was no dungeon—no prison. It was purpose-built, with oddly shaped metal implements hanging from iron chains, and artistic displays of skeletons, some whose hair still draped their skulls. All those people, all of them were once alive—their fleshless, bloodless remains now hanging eternally in a dark cavern where only the dead or dying would know them.
“Take a seat.” Jason ushered me toward a chair in the middle of the room.
“What, am I getting a root canal?” I asked.
He turned at the shoulder and eyed the giant chair. “You’re right. It does look like a dentist's chair. No one’s ever pointed that out before.”
“I don’t suppose they’d have noticed, given that most your victims would have no need for a dentist.”
“No.” He laughed. “You’re right. We don’t suffer fang decay if we brush regularly.”
“Advocate for good dental hygiene, huh?” I said sarcastically. “I’ll call you Count Colgate from now on.”
“I think Dr. Death would suit me better, given what I have planned for you today.” He offered the chair. “Mind you, I don’t think the metal cuffs on the arms and ankles of this chair give it much appeal for a dentist’s office. Although, I’m sure it’s a feature some would wish to employ.”
Had I not been minutes away from torture and possible death, I would have laughed. But I stood fast in the middle of the room like a hesitant child, unwilling to suffer what I could only fear was to come.
“Take a seat,” Jason said casually.
“Please don’t make me sit in that.” It looked dirty and slimy.
Jason sighed and grabbed my arm. “You will do as you’re told. Otherwise”—he turned and pointed to a small camera in the far corner—“King Drake will order me to do unspeakable things to you.”
“He already did.”
“M’yes, but it could be worse,” he stated coldly and pushed me into the chair.
“Oh, God.” I tore my fingers away from its wet splintery arm to fold the back of my wrist to my nose. “What is that smell?”
“Centuries of rotting flesh.”
My mouth opened, and my tongue came forward, choking on the gassy burn of egg in the back of my throat. “How long has it been since someone died down here?”
“Stop asking questions.” Jason squatted by my feet and bunched the base of my dress over my knees, locking one ankle into the metal cuff, then stopped and looked up at me.
“What?” I frowned down at him.
“Why aren’t you trying to escape?”
“Is there any point?” I asked rhetorically. “I might be some all-powerful weapon, but I don’t know how to use any of that wrath. We both know I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
He shook his head then nudged my other ankle into the open arm of the metal cuff, clamping it tightly. “You do know I’m going to hurt you, right?”
“Yes.” I stared him down.
He stood up slowly, his fingers twitching beside his pockets. “You seem awfully calm.”
“Do I?”
He moved again and pinned my arm down as he fastened the clasp over it, cranking a lever until it capped my wrist like a tight bangle. “Yes, you do.”
“I—” I flexed my fingers. “I don’t know what to feel.”
“Fear should be the first emotion, I would think.” He winked then walked behind the chair, out of sight.
“Jase?”
“What is it?”
“Don’t do it,” I said calmly. “Please? Just let me go.”
A breathy laugh came from somewhere behind me. “I really had you convinced, didn’t I?”
“Convinced?”
He looked over the top of the chair, his hands wrapping the sides. “That I loved you.”
“Is that what you were trying to do?” I asked nervously, butterflies bashing my stomach as the chair rolled back, my gaze sweeping the rounded ceiling until I lay flat on my back, my hands pulled into position beside my hips, my hair reaching for the ground. But Jason didn’t answer, and strangely, I was more worried about that than lying bound and helpless in a room of torture. “Jase?”
“What?”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes,
you were supposed to believe I cared for you. You were just another assignment of mine,” he said in a flat tone, and all those moments where I felt for him suddenly washed away, making me feel stupid. “But then, you should have known that.”
“How would I?” I sniffled, trying not to cry.
“Well, if you’d stopped to look at yourself for one minute, with all your scars, your high-maintenance girlie issues and your lack of anything intelligent to say, you’d have realized there’s no way I could actually love you.”
The sob I caged escaped once.
“But you’re really just too young and dumb to see past your own nose, aren’t you?” he finished.
As if a mask of heartbreak controlled my face, the corners of my closed lips arched downward and my teeth chattered inside my mouth. I heard the honesty in his words, but I just couldn’t let myself believe them. How could it be true? After everything we did, after all the hours we spent in each other’s company. He was more kind and loving than any man I’d ever known, even sweeter than David most times. It didn’t make sense. I’d almost have expected this kind of thing from David, but not from Jase.
The darkness of the fire-lit room became an orange ocean as tears filled my eyes, pooled there like a lens, then rolled out over the sides of my face. I wanted to wipe them away but was too afraid to even try moving an arm, not wanting any confirmation that I was trapped, that this was real; that Jason, the boy who saved me at Karnivale, could really be doing this to me.
“Stop crying,” Jason muttered impassively from somewhere behind.
“What are you doing back there?” I asked, my ragged sobs allowing only a small voice.
He took a deep breath through what sounded like his nose, and something heavy clunked on something tinny. “I’m getting things ready.”
I rolled my head to the side, searching for something other than those words to focus on, and as my eyes scanned the wall they stopped dead on the tiny open-mouthed skeleton of what looked like an infant.
“Is that real?” I asked, all tears, itches and fear stopping with my heart.
Jason appeared beside me and looked up too. “Yes, there’re no Halloween costumes around here. That, my dear,” he leaned closer, whispering in my ear, “was my brother’s handiwork.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He walked away again. “He killed it.”
I pictured David holding a screaming baby in his arms—killing it. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want. Doesn’t matter to me.”
He was right. He’d have no reason to lie to me, not now. It’s not like I’d ever see David again to hate him for it. “Why did he kill it?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“Can’t,” I said, twisting my wrists in the cuffs. “I’m a little tied-up right now.”
His face appeared above me again. “I love how funny you are when you’re scared.”
“Would you rather I was begging and pleading, or maybe I could even throw in a little screaming?”
“To be honest,” he said, his voice trailing up in question. “The Council would prefer that. So, if you could manage a bit of terror, that’d be great.”
I rolled my eyes, huffing loudly to release the pit of terror I was hiding in my gut. I would make extra sure now not to give those evil pricks what they wanted. And it seemed idle chatter distracted Jason enough to stop ‘preparing things’ every now and then, so I scanned the room again for a conversation piece. Maybe I could talk long enough to make him relax—relate to me a bit and perhaps, in the end, help me.
“Jason, what’s that metal cage—the thing shaped like legs?”
“That”—Jason pointed to it—“is the Coffin. You’ve heard of it in your History studies.”
Damn. So, playing dumb wouldn’t work. “Ur, yeah, I remember now.” My mouth dried seeing one for real, though. I’d seen all sorts of medieval torture implements, but never the Coffin. Imagining people had actually died in there was sickening. But the History student inside me was somewhat fascinated. “Was this place only used to torture vampires?”
“Yes.” He leaned down and rested his elbow on the chair beside my hip, becoming the light, carefree boy from my dream. “Hey, since you’re so interested in the historical side of this place, d’you wanna know what our favored method of torture is here—still in practice today?”
“Humor me.”
He wandered over to an iron shelf on the wall opposite my feet and grabbed something. “This method was known as Toe Wedging. You see, we take this little guy”—he held up a small, triangular block of wood—“and place it under the toenail.”
I tensed, panic rising, making my toes flex as the splintery block parted a tiny bit of flesh from nail.
“Then, we take this hammer…” He held up the rusty old mallet. “And bang!”
I jumped involuntarily, snapping my eyes shut tight. But nothing happened.
“Relax, Ara. I’m not going to use this on you. Unless you have something to confess?” he suggested.
I shook my head.
He wandered away again and came back with an oddly-shaped metal thing, almost like a really small hot air balloon. “This is called the Pear of Anguish.”
Okay, pear was a better comparison for its shape than balloon. “What do you do with that one?”
“Well, the torturer inserts this little baby into any number of orifices. The mouth for a liar, anus for those guilty of sodomy, and vagina for a whore or a woman who miscarries. Then, he’d wind this little key here.” He twisted the top of the thing and four arms opened out like an unfurling fist. “See?”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it?” He sounded insulted. “What’d you mean that’s it? Do you know the extent of mutilation this, when opened completely, would cause?”
I thought about that for a second.
“Especially if the torturer decided to rip it out”—he thrust his hand backward quickly—“while it was still open.”
I nodded. “Okay. Message clear.”
“Good, because you’ll be seeing this again.” He tossed it on the shelf with a loud, echoing clunk.
“What do you mean?” I tried to sit up a little to look at him, but my dead-straight arms made it impossible to roll higher than a stomach crunch. “Jason, tell me you’re not going to use that on me.”
“Of course not. But this is still one of Drake’s favorite toys. Especially with you, my dear, since you have the ability to heal.”
“Kill me!” I shook my wrists in the cuffs. “Just kill me, please, Jason. Don’t let him do that to me. Please don’t let him—”
“Shh, hush now.” He stroked my hair. “Don’t be afraid. Pain is not the worst you can suffer.”
“How is it not?”
“I’ve lived a long time, Ara,” he started, his eyes becoming distant. “I’ve seen men, vampires alike, rise above and even overcome agony to survive. Pain is only pain.”
“No, pain is the worst that can happen to someone.”
“We’ve been through this, Ara. There are always things Man himself cannot fathom; things that drive one to madness, making animals of good people—instinct suddenly their only fuel.” He stroked my hair again, looking distractedly at my face. “All manner of survival will become acceptable to you soon, and in that, you would even give up the life of a child to survive it. We all do. It is, essentially, human nature.”
“Ple-e-e-he-ease.” My eyes shut tight. “Please let me go. I can’t do this. I can’t take this.”
“But you will,” he soothed, his lips against my brow. “You will surprise even yourself, my dear.”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to know what I can survive. Just kill me. Please. You loved me. You told me you cared for me. There has to have been some truth to that. Jason!” I called angrily when he disappeared from sight. “Jason, don’t leave me like this.”
I shook violently against my confines, tearing at th
e skin on my wrists. But it didn’t matter. If I could break free, I’d take the pain, I’d rip my entire arm off to get out of here. Anything. I didn’t care.
“Jason!” My voice came back high-pitched, laced with the raw fear of a mother screaming for a child walking toward the road. But all I could do was cry, louder and more broken than I’d ever cried before, and even that wouldn’t save me.
“Jase?” I cried again, but he didn’t answer.
He’d disappeared, left me alone down here, crying and screaming for him. And in the rotation of time passing, the weight of everything to come bared down on me, making the room feel open, full of things I couldn’t imagine. Once I was on the other side, once he’d cut me or struck me, I’d know how bad it could get, but now, just waiting like this, I had no idea.
I stopped crying and looked up at the dirt ceiling. With my arms bound to the chair and my legs tied, sitting slightly apart, I felt too exposed, as if waiting for a sack of flour to drop on my midsection. I just wanted to roll over and hug my knees to my chest to block whatever he might think to do to me.
The worst pain I could remember was when I broke my arm falling off Dad’s roof. Even everything Jason did to me at the masquerade had somehow escaped me; I couldn’t recall what it felt like, no matter how hard I tried. I remembered the emotion, the fear, the feeling that so much was lost—more than just my life—but not the pain.
“Finished your little temper tantrum now?”
I looked across the room to where Jason leaned on the wall with one foot tucked up, his arms folded, a smug grin warming his face.
“Not if it means you stay over there.”
He appeared beside me. “There will come a point where I will be obliged to do my job, tantrums or none.”
I studied his face, seeing nothing of the monster I saw in the Council chamber. “I don’t think you can hurt me, Jason.”
A heavy sigh changed his whole demeanor. “Wow, you are naive, aren’t you?”
“I hope not.” I focused on his eyes—on the dark ring encircling the bright green. I’d looked into those eyes so many times. They were just like David’s, but copied genes couldn’t mask the difference in a man’s gaze, his soul, his heart, or his intentions. He’d loved me once. I saw that, whether he was pretending or not, he did love me once. And I could see deeper into his soul right now than I ever had before. His eyes were the same. Maybe sadder, but not loveless.
Dark Secrets Box Set Page 118