by Ainsley Shay
“Bring me the girl.” It was a voice I hadn’t heard before.
“Which one?” Rift asked.
“The Carving Witch’s sister.”
“No!” That one word was filled with horror and panic and was magnified by the scream that accompanied it.
The lock to her cell clunked. I heard her shuffling away from whoever was trying to coax her out.
“Get away from me!”
“Now, now, there’s no need for hitting and kicking.”
The conversation was a mismatch of cooing and screaming. I imagined her holding onto the bars as he tried to pull her out. Ironic, how she’d rather stay locked in a cell with no food or water, nothing to do besides slowly going insane, rather than whatever had been planned for her.
“Feisty one,” said someone other than Rift.
“Yeah, you should have come a couple of days ago, before her sister came, she was weak as hell.”
“Adelina deBlays was here?” asked whoever had come to retrieve Carina.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I hope to the Fallen you told someone,” the voice said. Then a slap splintered my ears. “You fool!”
“I’m sorry, she threatened—”
“Your life? Like that’s more important than the Lord’s safety.”
Rift said nothing for a long time. “She came twice, both times she had come to see her sister. She was dressed like a servant. The first time though, the witch also paid a visit to our other little pretty in the last cell.”
“What does she have to do with the Carving Witch?”
“Where are you taking me?” Carina screamed.
“To town,” the guard answered.
There wasn’t any more room in the dungeon for conversation or noise. The space shrilled with screams, demands, and bodies shifting and fighting.
“No!” Carina shrieked.
More wrestling and wailing. I covered my ears and wished for it all to end. What could be so bad about going into town? It had to be better than here. I thought. With his next words though, it all made sense.
“We need to flush out Adelina,” the guard said.
They were using Carina as bait.
“She won’t fall for it!” Carina yelled.
Anyone who knew Adelina had to know she wouldn’t come out of hiding for anyone; not even to save her own sister. Carina’s screams and protests faded as she was taken farther down the corridor, away from me. The dungeon fell silent.
I took a moment to pay attention to how my body felt. The transition was going quicker than I thought it would. From my nightmare, I remembered Adelina was in transition for days. My body was changing fast from the inside, like I was metamorphosing into another creature. A creature that wasn’t human. I almost felt my back to see if wings had sprouted, and then felt stupid. No one at Skelside had wings, not even Lord Darenfys. He was stripped of his wings when he so willingly fell.
Spinning with more than ways to escape, my head blistered at the thought of Adelina getting caught, and worse, killed. I would have no feelings one way or the other if she was burned at the stake. But, I needed her blood. A drop, two, a vial—I had no idea, as long as it was enough to bring back my mother and Snow from their state of stone. I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough yet, but I had to find a way to get to Adelina before they did. Her life needed to be taken before Lord Darenfys’. I had no doubt she would follow through on her promise of killing me after I killed the Lord. My severed head from my nightmare was the focal point when I closed my eyes. What was worse, though, was the thought of her turning me into one of her statues.
The gate at the end of the hall slammed shut.
“Rift,” I called out.
He came to stand in front of my cell. His cheek had scratches seeping with blood; no doubt the work of Carina. He looked beaten and worn. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Never better, and why the hell would you care?”
Sarcasm was not his strong side. It didn’t matter, Rift would most likely be dead by morning. His death was brought on by his own doing; spewing out news that Adelina deBlays was in the castle, and he had not told anyone until they came to get Carina for bait, was not in his best interest. “It looks like it hurts.” I could smell the blood from his wounds. The scent rose above and around the mold and rancid smell of filth and waste.
“It doesn’t.”
He rubbed the scratches with the back of his filthy hand. I wondered if I should ask for more blood or wait until he brought it to me. I was starting to feel stronger, and I wanted to keep getting stronger. But, I didn’t want to give off any vibes I had a plan. At least I thought I had a plan, not an actual detailed one, but one that would get me out of here.
He glanced behind me. “Your cup is empty. Did you spill it or drink it?”
“Both,” I partially admitted. “What will they do to Carina?” Engaging him in conversation was easy. Rift, as I’d learned from my stay at the Skelside Dungeon Inn, was a lonely soul who watched over the ones whose future wasn’t so bright.
“They’ll take the crazy girl to the center of town and wait.”
I felt like I was living a hundred years ago, when these types of town-humiliations happened on a frequent basis. But here I was in the twenty-first century, reliving the Salem Witch Trials. “Wait for what?”
“The Carving Witch.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He knew her, was afraid of her, knew what she was capable of, and yet, here he thought the love for her little sister would bring her to the center of town to have a net thrown over her and get captured. “You know Adelina won’t come?”
“You’re probably right; but that won’t stop them.”
“What happens if she doesn’t come?”
He shrugged. “Then, the others will.”
Now my curiosity was like coals on fire. “Who are the others?”
“You know—the dark ones.”
My brain was spinning with possible suspects, but none of them were close to what he said next.
“The creatures in the moat—the dark ones—they will come for her. The Lord releases them for the evening to hunt. And, no doubt they will find her to tame their appetites.”
I imagined the scene: Carina with her wrists tied to a post; her body dangling like an ornament in the breeze; waiting to be rescued, only to be taken by blind slithering creatures and gnawed upon. It was then I hoped for nothing more than her sister to come for her and be her savior. But, it was the Carving Witch, and she looked out for no one but herself. I had no doubt the dark ones would be the ones to come for Carina. If I was strong enough to free myself from this dungeon, I would try to save her before I committed my murders. She was as innocent in all this as I was; a bystander who only wanted to live her life and take care of her daughter.
Rift turned away and started down the corridor. “I’ll be back with your blood tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.
I was lost in dark thoughts, un-thought-out plans, accusations that had no merit; so I was happy when Rift excused himself from our awkward and too insightful conversation. He was bringing me what I needed to gain the strength to get beyond all of this, including Skelside.
Curling in on myself, I found comfort next to the dagger that lay beneath the hay in the corner of the cell. The hilt of the knife dug into my side; but the pain and discomfort was worth the peaceful sleep that followed.
Clank! Bang! Clunk! When I woke, Rift was inside my cell. Inside! The man slave would never even open my door unless told to, or it was absolutely necessary; life or death. “Sleep, dear one. Here’s your breakfast.”
“Rift?” I muttered through half sleep and dreams.
“Yeah?”
“Did Adelina come?”
The image of Carina came again. The thought was sick and dreadful. The stench of body odor and decay overloaded my senses when Rift came into my cell.
“Not yet.”
The scent of blood wafted up when Rift s
et the cup next to me.
“Don’t spill it,” he said, and shut the cell door. The lock fell into place and I was still a prisoner in this Hell.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I think I said only to myself. I was still weak, but I could feel my body changing, gaining strength. The Lord’s blood was having an effect on me, and for that I was, possibly, grateful. I would need my strength to kill him. Ironic, when I thought about it. He gave my body what it needed to bring him to his grave.
Our conversation about blood had been as easy as talking about the weather. It was then that I decided not to kill him when I made my escape. He had left me alone, aside from slapping me when I first arrived. Rift hadn’t been all that bad. I imagined worse things could have happened to me, and no one ever would have known. So, I decided to let him live.
14
It was the kind of kiss that was forever and infinite.
I woke when the gate into the dungeon slammed shut. My head was swimming in the dream I’d had of Blacwin and me. We were together, caught in an endless embrace; we were happy.
“Rift?” I called out. “Is that you?”
“Who else would it be?” he hollered back. “No one else wants this forsaken job.” He came to my cell and slid open the door.
He wasn’t afraid of me; for that I was grateful. It would also make my escape easier. After that though, I had no doubt things would get trickier. I should have asked Adelina how she was able to move around the castle with the stealth of a faceless servant. She should have been forthcoming so I could complete my task of murder.
“Here’s your breakfast.” Rift changed out the cups.
My body felt very different. It felt alive and fierce. There was an energy I hadn’t noticed before coursing through my veins. The dizziness and listlessness that had plagued my body for days wasn’t evident when I stood. The muscles in my arms and legs tingled; they felt warm and charged. Soon, I would make my move to escape. “What day is it?”
Rift came back into the cell. I stood on the dagger hidden under the hay while he rustled my bedding with a rake and added some fresh straw to the pile. “I don’t know. Things like that aren’t important here.”
I thought it odd, but didn’t persist. “Is it morning or night?”
“It’s almost three in the morning. Dark as a witch’s curse out there.”
Three in the morning. Lord Darenfys would be awake. I tried to figure out when Adelina had come and what time of day it was, and when they came for Carina. It was nearly impossible to calculate. My brain had been so fuzzy and withdrawn when I was weak. Now, it was firing off ticks of information and remembering every detail of what I was experiencing. If it kept up at this rate, I’d be exhausted before dawn. Time. Keep track of the time. In a few hours, I would attempt to escape. Attempt. The word sounded like a hope or a dream, more than an action in my plan. In a few hours, I would escape.
“What happened to Carina? Did Adelina come for her?”
His rusty voice dropped a few octaves. “She’s dead. And, no her sister never came for her.” He slid the cell door shut. “They tied her arms over her head, bathed her with lemon juice for purification, and had her blow a hundred dandelions to send the mental message to her sister. Then, they waited.”
“You knew she wouldn’t come.”
“I had hoped. We all did. The Carving Witch has lived for too long; it’s time for her to die.”
“Slave-guard!” A deep voiced bellowed from the mouth of the dungeon.
Rift’s slumped posture immediately stood at attention. He turned toward the gate. His body stiffened and his eyes opened to an unnatural size. “Yes, my Lord.” He stumbled as he hurried to unlock the gate.
My Lord? Every cell in my body felt singed, like the wings of dragonflies too close to a fire. Pretending to sleep would be difficult with my heart thumping the way it was. I didn’t want the Lord to notice how my strength was improving on a daily basis. The fresh straw was the only thing I had to hide under, to use as a blanket. I lay down, scattered the straw over my legs, raised my arm to cover my face, and closed my eyes.
“I find it interesting, slave, that Ms. deBlays weaseled her way through my castle, down layers of stone into my dungeon, to pay a visit to my prisoner, all while my guard on duty watched and did nothing to stop her!” By the last word, his voice had grown to a haunting pitch of fury.
“My Lord, she—”
“There is nothing you can say to receive my forgiveness,” Lord Darenfys said.
The dungeon was eerily silent for several moments. Then, the swift sound of a sword being drawn sliced through the air.
Rift was dead. I had no ties to him. He was scared, alone, and ashamed—he was like me. With him gone, I would be joining him soon.
“Feed him to my dear dark ones,” said the Lord.
Footsteps came closer to my cell. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed Lord Darenfys would just have a peek, then leave. A light repetitive clinking noise, possibly a ring, tapped against the bars of my cell. I fought against the will to open my eyes.
“Ah, my dear, sweet Catherine. Over these many years, you’ve changed more than I would have liked, but I still love you as much as the day I first saw you.” Tap. Tap Tap. “Come back to me, rule with me, give yourself over to me and I promise to make you happy, fulfill dreams you’ve never known you had, give you everything you want; be mine and I swear I will give you a life of eternity.”
I listened to his plea and feared every promise he made. I made my own promise, then: I would die before I became his. A scream was building inside of me. Bile pushed the tiny bubble of panic wrestling its way up my chest into my throat. I wanted to rise and wail on him, scream, “I tried to kill you! I don’t want anything from you but your heart to stop beating!” I lay there, as still as a feather atop a lake on a windless day. Thin long breaths filled my lungs. I exhaled through my mouth, careful not to blow the straw.
“I’ll come back when you’re awake. We can discuss the details of you returning to me then.”
Lord Darenfys shifted. I didn’t move until I heard the gate slam shut. I eased into a sitting position. There was no reason to call out. Any guard they sent to watch over me would never treat me the way Rift had. Rift was low on the food chain at Skelside, but he had a heart. I picked up the cup of blood. It had begun to separate. “Ugh.” Holding my nose, I tilted the cup and drank its contents. Then, I did sleep. My plan would have to wait. I wondered if Adelina was still in the castle. She, who wanted to kill me, might be my only ally; at least until I killed Lord Darenfys.
The lock on the gate clicked. The gate swung and hit the wall behind it. Heavy footfalls came in my direction. Sweat coated my body in anticipation of who would greet me on this morning or night; I had lost track of time again. “Who’s there?” I scooted toward the back wall. I wished I hadn’t spoken and could fake sleeping. But, it was too late. The figure who stood in front of me was not whom I was expecting. He was far from being another slave-like guard. His build was slender, strong, and familiar. Chandler, my brother, stared at me as if I was an animal in a cage at the zoo.
Ecstatic that I’d finally be free, I leaped to my feet, grasped the bars, and reached through the steel toward him. “Chandler! Chandler! Do you know how happy I am to see you?”
Nothing. He stood motionless.
Like Blacwin, he too had been turned into a zombie puppet, most likely by the hands of Penemuel. I wanted to scream and hit Chandler until he snapped out of whatever spell he was under. It wouldn’t be that easy. Frustration clawed around my insides. Its talons ripping and shredding every ounce of hope I had built.
His light eyes were unyielding and determined. “Move to the back wall and grasp the chain above your head.” Reluctantly, I did what he asked. “If you move, you will receive a blade in the center of your chest.”
I had no reason to doubt him. I studied him as he came into the cell and replaced the empty cup with a full one, his features had hardened since I
had last seen him at the ball. This shell of a man was not my brother. I had to believe the Chandler I knew, the one who drove me crazy, the guy who would never hurt me, and would protect me with his life, was in there somewhere.
I stayed perfectly still. “Chandler,” I said softly. “Can you hear me? It’s me, Iris, your sister.”
He turned, and for the slightest second I thought he had acknowledged me. “Please don’t move until I have left the cell and the door is in place and locked.”
I was wrong. My head fell to the side in defeat. Despair settled in. The ache in my chest funneled through the rest of my body, spreading out into my limbs to the tips of my fingers and toes. I was going to lose everything I had worked for, everything I had learned in this life; only to be reborn and have to learn it all again. I would die in here. It didn’t matter how much blood I drank, how strong I became, Chandler would prove to be useless in my plan to escape. Also, he was going to be a nightmare to save. Rift would have been so much easier to persuade and to use as a pawn in my game to get the hell out of here.
The lock fell into place and I released my grip on the chain. My arms fell heavily to my sides. Chandler’s scent was left behind and I found myself missing him, my newly found brother. I thought of his Porsche, the way he kicked his feet up on my coffee table and made himself at home in my tiny apartment, and it made my heart ache.
The tears that had stayed away for days, returned. My living nightmare had worsened. I stumbled to a sitting position next to my dinner. Once again, the scent wafted upwards and my stomach growled. At least I knew there was still hope for me when the thought of pizza sounded better than the Lord’s own fine wine.
Snow. My head was on overload with memories of all the ones I wanted—needed—to save. But, I would be of no help to any of them: Blacwin, my mother, Snow, Chandler. There were fallen angels and witches that needed to be killed before any of them could be saved. Carina’s daughter, what would become of her? Her poor mother was left as a meal for the dark ones to take.
I had to stop thinking about everything and everyone until I got out of here. Then, and only then, could I make a plan. My head felt woozy. I picked up the cup of blood. Its dark contents sloshed in the metal cup. I put it to my lips and let the liquid slide down my throat. I gagged and resisted the urge to throw up. The only thought that held everything in check was killing, staying alive, and rescuing the ones I loved.