Integrity sank onto the seat of a nearby stationary bike. No, he never loses his cool. That's your job. She rubbed roughly at her forehead, not wanting to admit that she might have been in control of the situation every time, that she had the power to stop everything. She let a big breath escape through her nose. Galia and her stupid psych sessions. Can't she just let me live in ignorant peace?
Є
Glegnar startled from his daydream and dropped his feet off the desk, allowing them to hit the floor heavily. The sounds of several people nearing the heavy, iron door to his left were growing louder. He staggered to his feet, knocking a pen off of the battered desk, and hurried to the door, sliding open the eye level slot.
There was very little light, but he could easily make out the forms of at least half a dozen people coming toward him. The one in the center had a black bag over his head; Glegnar guessed that he had a gag over his mouth from the muted noises coming toward him. The captive was throwing his weight around, doing his best to resist, but the four or five guards with him were handling his insurrection with ease. They were completely silent.
Startled from his wonderings, Glegnar slammed the slot shut and fumbled with the key, finally inserting it in the lock and dragging the heavy door open across the dirty floor, just in time. The group moved past him with no acknowledgment of the keeper's presence. Glegnar quickly locked the door again, then limped down the hall after them, his body unaccustomed to hurrying anywhere.
The guard in the front carried a lit torch, which was fortunate, as most of those attached to the walls had extinguished. Glegnar wiped the perspiration from his forehead and balding pate; it was his job to keep the prison in readiness at all times. He hiked his pants higher and continued to follow, grasping for some way to be helpful and hopefully earn the silence of those who were witnessing his sloth.
The group continued to the very end of the cells, far from Glegnar's desk. There were not even wall brackets for torches this deep under Westmarch. Never had anyone been brought this deep in all of Glegnar's memory. He was grumbling in his thoughts about the additional space he'd have to traverse even as he wormed his way past the group to unlock the cell.
The hinges on the door were rusted, the walls seeping moisture onto them. Glegnar had to throw his weight against the door more than once to open it enough for the group to enter. Now he was muttering under his breath, angry with this newcomer for making him look a fool in front of the guards. Eager to redeem himself, Glegnar entered the room after the others and trod toward the prisoner. “Who is this little punk?” he ground out, reaching to rip the bag from the head of the guest of honor.
As the bag cleared the prisoner's head, Glegnar leaned closer to get a good look, the flickering light of the torch blurring his vision for a moment.
Glegnar gasped and staggered back, fear clenching his stomach. No longer concerned with appearances, he backed completely out of the cell and several more feet down the hallway. He heard the sound of chains clanked against one another and the stone wall, then the guards silently exited the cell, one at a time. The last one pulled the door shut with ease, despite the squealing of the hinges. They stared expectantly at Glegnar.
Struggling to regain control, Glegnar swiped one hand across his upper lip, then forced himself to move forward and lock the door, feeling the entire time as though a full grown tiger might take a swipe at him through the barred window at any moment. Task completed, he sniffed and moved down the hallway past the guards, head held high. He failed to hide how labored his breathing was.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Integrity was bored. She was more than bored, she was lethally bored. She couldn't stand to sit still, but she couldn't stand to be active, either. She wanted to read, but she couldn't focus. She wanted to play ping pong, but she was too tired. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to. She wanted to eat, but she couldn't decide what. In short, she was miserable.
Even though they were in the lower levels of Westmarch, she could feel the increase of heat brought on by the late summer. While she couldn't really say she was hot, she was uncomfortably warm. But, of course, temperature changes didn't affect the vampires, so she didn't want to complain and look like a weak, whiny mortal. If only I had a fan. At least I could sleep at night...
Restless, she wandered into the common living area and flopped down on the couch with a frustrated sigh. It wasn't any cooler here than it had been in her room. Maybe there are some popsicles in the fridge, she thought. Evan walked into the room just as she moved to stand.
“Don't leave on my account,” he said, blandly but with just a hint of anger.
“What, the heat makes you grumpy, too?” she asked, her tone less than polite. Evan didn't respond, just moved to the bar and poured a glass of liquid, undoubtedly blood. Automatically, she kept her gaze focused on his face so she wouldn't have to see what he held. He moved toward the couch and sat. Integrity snorted. “Oh, I forgot, you don't need a reason to be grumpy. You're Evan.” She bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't really angry at him, so why was she being so snappy?
“And you do?” he replied, obviously teasing. She felt blood creep into her cheeks. Quit acting like a brat, she chided herself.
“No,” she admitted, chagrined. “But I'm a lowly human. That's gotta count for something, right?”
Evan smiled slightly, taking a sip from his glass. She was glad he had chosen a darkly tinted one so she didn't have to admit to what the liquid was.
“Really, you don't have to leave, even if you're grumpy. Sit down.”
Integrity waved one hand, brushing aside his assumption. “I was going to get a popsicle. You want one?”
The small smile still on his face, Evan replied, “I don't know. Got any A-negative?”
Integrity rolled her eyes and moved to the hallway, calling back, “I'll check.”
She was relieved that the freezer only contained fruit juice, not plasma. She grabbed a cherry pop and walked back toward the living area, holding the plastic wrapped treat to the back on her neck, bushing her hair out of the way.
She had only been gone a moment, but in that space of time the king had entered the room. She stopped dead when she caught sight of him and Evan in a heated, though quiet, conversation. They were standing nearly nose-to-nose, and each looked furious. She didn't know whether she was more surprised at the emotion from the king or from Evan.
When Evan noticed her presence, the hushed conversation stopped immediately. The king was able to slide his calm demeanor effortlessly back into place, but Evan was not able to follow suit. He stepped back and turned away from the pair of them.
“Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were here,” Integrity said, feeling like a peeping tom. She dropped a curtsy, grateful for the chance to not look at either of them, and began backing down the hallway before she had fully straightened.
“No, please, Integrity, join us.”
Rats. How am I supposed to ignore the king? Wanting to stomp her feet or kick something, Integrity forced herself to move back into the room, suddenly unsure what to do with her popsicle. She felt like an idiot. It may as well be a giant, rainbow-colored lollipop. Maybe I should put my hair in pigtails.
The king gestured for her to sit, after he had, and she did so, reluctantly. She stared at the popsicle in her lap, wishing she'd stayed in her room. She saw Evan, from the corner of her eye, move off into a corner, refusing to join their little chat. Coward.
“We seem to have had quite a breakthrough,” the king started, conversationally. Integrity forced herself to look at him, not wanting to appear rude. She could feel the popsicle melting in her grip.
When the king didn't continue, she was forced to speak. “Oh?” Brilliant, genius. Next time, why don't you just grunt?
The king smiled wryly, for a moment. “Yes. Benjamin, the son of Dagnus, has been apprehended.”
He may as well have hit her in the face with a water balloon; it wouldn't have been any more unexpected. Integr
ity opened and closed her mouth, nonsensical syllables coming forth, then snapped it shut. Struggling to come up with an appropriate response, she said, “That's...good?” She shut her eyes tightly. A question? You made it a question? Of course it's good. Isn't it?
“Very good. The man will be brought to justice.” The king was studying her face intently, though he still remained relaxed and at ease in his chair.
Integrity swallowed, feeling like her mouth was filled with tiny pieces of cotton. “Good,” she said, her head bobbing like one of those annoying little plastic dogs people stick in the back window of their cars. She forced herself to stop. She wasn't entirely sure why Ben was being punished, though she assumed it wasn't because he was a liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Yes, it is,” the king said, musingly. “Now that we have him in custody, we can move forward with--”
Evan stepped between the two of them, facing the king. “That's enough.” His voice was like steel--freezing, immovable.
The king rose, standing toe-to-toe with the younger man. “Do not forget your place, Evan.” His voice was calm. Integrity shuddered.
“I believe it's time for you to leave,” Evan returned, his tone mirroring that of the monarch. “Thank you for the visit.” There was no welcome in his voice, no indication that the king was welcome to come again.
Watching Evan's fists ball tightly, Integrity panicked and leaped to her feet. “My popsicle's melting,” she burst out, holding up the plastic wrapper as evidence. She froze, amazed at her own stupidity. Do you even have a brain?
The two men had turned from their silent battle, both staring at her in bewilderment. She slowly let her arm sink back to her side. She smiled inanely, wishing she were dead.
The king's gaze sank to her hand, still clutching the popsicle in a death grip. “Indeed, it is,” he said. “Perhaps it would be prudent for me to leave.” The king sidestepped Evan, clasped her hand in his own, raised it, and pressed his lips briefly to her knuckle before turning and leaving.
His lips were every bit as cold as the melting ice she still held.
Є
Integrity dropped the ball on the table, then hit it across the net, letting it roll across the floor. She dug in her pocket for another ball, then dropped her paddle on the table with a half-grunt, half-sigh. She crossed the room, scuffing her feet on the hard, cool floor as she went. She started scooping the balls up, cramming them into the large pocket on one leg of her pants.
As she shoved herself back to her feet, she felt something tick against the back of her head. She turned and spotted a stray ping-pong ball bouncing away across the floor. “What the heck?” she muttered, looking around at the empty room. Shrugging, she muttered, “You're losing it, girl.”
As she stooped to pick up the stray ball, she felt another one hit her on the back. Spinning around, she glimpsed movement in the doorway, as though someone had just ducked back into the hall. An evil smile tight on her face, she walked as quietly as she could to the doorway. She hesitated a moment, counting internally, then sprung around the door frame, yelling, “Ah-ha!”
The hallway was empty.
Seriously doubting her sanity, she turned to head back into the weight room, then felt herself jump literally off the ground when a form startled her. Evan burst out laughing.
“What the heck are you doing?” she asked, embarrassed and still a little startled.
“I thought you might be sick of playing by yourself, so I decided to lend a helping hand.”
Integrity took a swing at him, and he covered his torso protectively with his arms, still laughing. “So, what, you decided to pelt me with balls? Thank heaven I wasn't bowling!”
Evan walked through the doorway, still laughing, and straight to the ping-pong table, scooping up a paddle from the floor on the way. “Think you can handle balls actually coming back when you hit them?” he asked, positioning himself on the far side of the table.
Integrity rolled her eyes. “I don't know. I think I'll give it a try, though.” She served, seeing as Evan had used all of his ammunition already. She hit it harder than necessary, but he returned the serve without any apparent effort.
“So, why are you in here playing ping-pong by yourself, anyway?” he asked. She wondered if he was just trying to distract her from the game.
“There's nothing else to do. It's deadly boring here, you know.” Okay, so that's not quite the truth, she admitted to herself as she hit the ball again. You're trying to get the memory of your “popsicle moment” out of your head.
“Is it?” Evan returned, sounding as though the thought had never occurred to him before. “I hadn't noticed.”
Integrity snorted. “Yeah, right. Admit it, there've been times you've considered suicide just to escape the monotony.”
“Oh, I've considered it, just not for the reasons you think.”
Integrity missed the ball, the seriousness in his voice giving her pause. She laughed uncomfortably. “Come on, I know it must be nuts to live forever, but that's no reason to kill yourself.” Evan made no response. Slowly, awkwardly, she continued, “I was just joking, you know.”
“I wasn't.”
The false smile dissolved from Integrity's face and she found herself unable to look at Evan. After a moment, she fished another ball out of her pocket and said, “Okay, then. Your serve?” She bounced the ball across the table, but it hit the net and rolled to the floor.
Evan stooped and picked up the ball with his finger and thumb, handling it like a raw egg. He bounced the ball between his paddle and the table top a few times. “Immortality's not all it's cracked up to be,” he said, sending the ball over the net gently. Integrity barely managed to hit it back. His tone was conversational once more.
“Oh, I don't know,” she said back, trying to match his light tone. “People will go through a lot not the die. Chemo's not pleasant, but people do it all the time.”
“True,” Evan said, “but there's a difference between delaying death and eradicating it.”
Not knowing how to respond, Integrity listened to the tap of the ball as they continued to play. Evan broke the silence after a few minutes, when the ball sailed off on Integrity's side again.
“You don't have any fanciful ideas about the joys of being undead, do you?”
His question so startled her that Integrity took a wild swing at the ball, causing it to ricochet off the table and smack Evan directly in the eye. She clapped on hand over her open mouth. “Oh, my gosh.”
Evan pulled his hand away from his eye, squinting at his fingers experimentally. “No harm done,” he said, though he sounded rough, almost grudging. “I suppose I deserve it after all the times I hit you.” He blinked exaggeratedly.
Integrity scuttled around the table, setting her paddle down on Evan's side. “Let me see,” she said, raising her hands toward his face, then letting them hang there, not knowing what to do. She studied his eye for a moment, then realized just how close she was standing to him. She dropped her hands and shifted her weight back, hoping he wouldn't notice her withdrawal. “Well, it's not red or anything, so I guess you'll live.”
“Yes, I will. In a manner of speaking.” Evan took a half-step closer, looming over her. “But you won't.”
Integrity stepped back, unable to stop herself. She laughed, nervously. “Are you saying you're going to kill me?” Realizing how that sounded, she stuttered, “A-at ping-pong?”
Evan stepped forward again, forcing her back. “I'm saying I want you gone.”
She stepped back again. “Gone as in out of your rooms, or gone as in...?” She let the sentence trail off, not wanting to actually say she thought he wanted to kill her.
He shrugged, frowning. “Whatever it takes. So long as you're gone.”
Є
“Yes!” Integrity exclaimed, catching the box that Paul had tossed toward her. She ripped it open, pulled out one of the rectangles, peeled back the cover, and shoved a bread stick into the fake cheese. She groaned with ple
asure as she took her first bite. Paul shuddered. “What?” she laughed.
“How can you eat that?” He pulled a face again, looking like he wanted to retch. “I didn't think you'd seriously like them.”
“They're my favorite!” she protested, taking another bite. “Did you buy them as a joke? 'Cuz there are lots worse things out there.”
“Evan said you liked them.”
Integrity spit the half-chewed mess into her hand. “Evan told you to buy these?”
“Ugh!” Paul said, covering his eyes. “It was bad enough before, did you really have to do that?”
“What, are they poisoned?” she demanded, her tone serious.
Paul dropped his hands, caught sight of the goo, and wrinkled his nose. “Why do you think that? You know I wouldn't poison you.”
“Not you, Evan.”
Paul sighed, scratched his head, and sank into her armchair. “Do me a favor? Go get rid of that,” he gestured at her hand, “then come back and we can talk about this, okay?”
Integrity shook the glop into the toilet, rinsed her hand, then came back and sank onto her bed. “Seriously, did Evan ever have access to those?” She pointed at the box, left where she had discarded it on the floor.
Paul laughed, though he sounded tired. “No. Why are you so convinced he's out to get you?”
“Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin with one finger, “maybe because he told me he wants to kill me? How's that for ya?”
Paul's face grew serious. “Man, what did you do this time?” he said, obviously exasperated.
“Nothing!” Integrity said, indignant. “Well, I did hit him in the eye with a ping-pong ball, but he'd already hit me with, like, three!”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Back the blame train up. Why don't you start from the beginning?”
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 16