by L. J. Stock
“It's not intentional, I assure you. You have to understand that there are many divisions of our...” He trailed off and smiled apologetically. He looked uncomfortable, and I had to admit it was nice seeing a reaction from him, rather that staring at the cold blankness of the mask. “I apologize. It seems that discussions of this nature aggravate you.”
“I just don't understand how you can follow anyone that has a plan in place to destroy everything that exists. Including you.”
“Again, your misinformation astounds me. It is your family who will bring the world to an end.” He gave me a look I couldn't decipher.
Laughing without humor, I slouched in the chair and blew the dark strands of my hair from my face. This circular conversation was going nowhere. We were only succeeding in pointing fingers at one another with no real resolution. The difference was I could see what he couldn't. I knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew that the people I loved wanted nothing more than peace and to live very long lives that way. What could he say? Their kind raped underworld nymphs and used that power to gain magic. Then they attacked small villages that couldn't defend themselves and stole and pillaged in the name of a maniacal dictator. It was a clear-cut case of good versus evil to me.
“May I ask what is so funny?”
“Your ignorance,” I said bluntly, gripping the sides of the chair to steady myself. “You believe I am misinformed, yet you clearly can't discern right from wrong. Have you even compared the way we do things? All of your faulty logic and sanctimonious bullshit, and here you are preaching to me that we're the ones in the wrong. You can't possibly know what our lives are like or what we work toward. You believe what you're told when the evidence is right there in front of you. Do I look like I’m ready to die? Do you honestly think I would fight to live if I was predisposed to having this world and all the others end?”
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed he was sitting on. His long gloved fingers ran along the edges of the mask in his lap. I wasn't sure whether I'd managed to get through to him, and I didn't really care. It just pissed me off that they threw around accusations when they knew absolutely nothing. They were so invested in what their ruler told them, they hadn't opened their eyes to see the truth. Maybe I should have been sad for him. His pathetic excuse for a life was lived for one purpose—to do his master’s bidding.
Maybe their lives were dedicated to servitude—I didn't know. All I knew was that their blind faith in the man they followed was planted deep within them. I wasn't sure I would ever get through the propaganda that had been shoved into his mind, but I knew there was a chance I could survive if I was able to plant a seed of doubt.
Just like that, my mind pushed away the haze that had been fogging it since I'd woken up, and a plan to escape began to formulate in its place. Adrenaline boiled through my blood with excitement. This new plan wasn't going to be one of my finest moments, but Rasmus and I were out of options. If there was a chance, any chance at all that I could get through to Grigori and turn him to see our side of this war then maybe he would give us an escape.
Executing this kind of plan would mean putting my faith in this man's humanity. It would also mean opening myself up to him to a certain degree. Yet from the way he spoke to me and treated me with respect, I had a feeling that underneath all of the programming there was a guy with a decent heart and a history that I had to put all of my faith in. It would take time. I hoped it wouldn’t take longer than we had left, but I knew only time would tell.
I knew Rasmus wasn't going to like this, but we were out of options. There was a chance I could get him to listen, and I planned on using that chance.
I watched him a little closer and tried to drop the rigidity of my shoulders. His silence was still lingering between us, and having the ability to read his expressions since he’d removed his mask, I could see that he was thoughtfully considering what I’d said.
“I'm sorry, Grigori,” I offered. “I'm tired and still a little disorientated. I didn't mean to upset you, but you have to see why I'm so angry. You've ripped me from my life and family, and accused me of trying to end the world. That would piss anyone off, especially when it’s a lie.”
He watched me curiously, obviously wondering where my calmer demeanor had come from. Heat rose to the brown of his eyes as he watched and waited, the creak of his gloves the only indication that he’d moved at all. There was something behind those eyes that I couldn’t read, an assessment that I had no basis to evaluate. Resolution slowly settled into place and for the briefest of moments, I saw a curve to his lips, but it was gone before I was sure I’d seen it at all.
Uncomfortable, I felt like I should throw an expletive in to keep my tenacity in place. I had to ease into the niceties, and make the transition of difficult to pliable more natural. Doing a one-eighty on him would just raise suspicion that I was working to gain his trust and eventually abuse it, and it was clear he wasn’t stupid. Just brainwashed.
“Do you think you could leave now? I need sleep,” I amended, adding a tone of disgust.
“May we speak again?” he asked curiously, his eyes still on mine, offering some unreadable message I would never understand.
“Do what you like. It’s not like I'm going anywhere.” I sighed. I needed him to come back, but I wasn't going to let him think I wanted it. I needed him to develop this friendship of his own volition.
“Then I will visit you again. I will ask the guards to leave you alone for a while to get some rest.”
I nodded, and watched him stretch to his full height. He towered above me, his body pure strength and muscle, and yet his eyes now said something different in the warm humanity of his face. He regarded me with kindness.
“Goodnight, Cassandra. Rest in comfort.”
I watched him head toward the door of the cell, but he never called a guard to unlock the bars on the cell. Instead, a small circle of fire appeared, and he stepped through it, appearing on the other side of the bars. It was easy to remember why he intimidated me in instances like this. That wasn't translocation; that was pure black magic.
He gave me one last look before replacing his mask and raising his red hood. Then he walked away, his slow footsteps leaving echoes to bounce from the stone walls. I slipped off the chair and let myself fall to the mattress that was less than three feet from me. My dizziness may have been fading, but that didn't mean my exhaustion had left me. As I curled up on the mattress and pulled my legs to my stomach, I let myself go over the plan for a while longer. Unfortunately, that longer didn't last very long. Fatigue found me and carried me into the cool darkness and dreams filled with Damon's voice.
Chapter Seven
I woke up with a start. My name was reverberating around the small cell, moving from one side to the other and back again, fading with each bounce. I dimly recognized the voice in my tired state, and it took me a second to gather myself enough to answer his call.
“I'm up,” I croaked, rubbing my eyes to remove the physical remnants of my fatigue. Testing the waters, I raised my head and was pleased to find there was no dizziness plaguing me.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Ras hissed, his voice flowing from a cell an undeterminable distance from my own.
“I was sleeping,” I said, yawning as I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back. My slumber on the mattress had made me feel a little bit better. I'd actually slept pretty decent considering the situation we were in.
“I'm glad you were able to get some sleep,” he said, sounding sore and irritated. “They drugged me again.”
“I'm sorry, Ras.” I rolled to my knees and up to my feet from the makeshift bed I'd been using and wandered toward the bars that still held me captive. They were cool to the touch when I gripped them. “Are you alright?”
“I'm dizzy, but fine. You?”
“I'm okay,” I admitted, shaking the bars of the cell and testing my prison for any faults. Unfortunately, the bars were unmoving and sank deep into the rock as though
they’d grown there. “Ras, do you trust me?”
“What kind of question is that?” He snorted with derision, and I could almost see his eye-roll in my head as the words echoed around me. “Of course I trust you.”
I leaned my head against the cool metal of the bars and took another deep breath as I tried to find a way to word my plan so it would get the point across to Rasmus while giving away nothing to any other ears that might be listening to us. It was hard to think straight knowing how close those masked freaks were. That also meant it was going to be nearly impossible for him to understand what I was trying to say. Regardless, I had to try, so I had no choice but to be careful about what I said in the open.
“Do you trust me enough to stay quiet if the guards come back?”
His silence was the only reply I received, but I knew better than to think he was pissed off or upset with me. Rasmus knew me too well to think I would knowingly put myself or him in danger, and I knew he was processing what little I had said and trying to find the answers in the very simple statement.
“I don't know what you're up to, but yes, I trust you, Cass. If you want me to hold back, I will.”
“I wish I could talk to you face to face.” I sighed, pushing back from the metal bars and leaning against the rough wall. Sliding down, I pulled my knees to my chest and leaned into the bar in an attempt to see down the hall and spot whether there were any guards on duty. Unfortunately, the natural curve in the rock made it impossible to see anything but more of the same.
“What happened after he sent me back to the land of nod?” Rasmus asked, his subtle movements echoing through the rounded corridor giving the discombobulating illusion that he was closer than he was.
“The big guy, Grigori? He came into my cell.”
“What?” The rattle of the cage almost drowned out his growl.
“Relax, Ras. He was very cordial and even removed his mask when I asked,” I said conversationally. My tone was it’s usual coo when I was trying to pacify him or any of the other hardheaded men in my life. Rasmus may have been here to protect me, but considering he was locked up in what might as well have been a cell a mile away, it was pointless for him to get all worked up about a visit that had been and gone. I needed to keep him calm.
“Cass...”
“Rasmus.” It was just his name but I knew the tone I’d used would hold some significance. I was reiterating that he’d just agreed to trust me, and from his silence I could tell he was doing the same.
I hoped he wouldn't try to put a stop to what little of the plan I’d conceived. I believed I could give us a chance. If I chipped away at Grigori a little each day, maybe I could make him see our side and give us a chance to escape. I was taking a risk, but it was the only thing we had to go on. Without this, there was nothing but these cells and waiting for our deaths to arrive at the hands of their king, Thánatos.
“You're sure?”
“No,” I admitted with a humorless laugh. “But it's not like we have any other options.”
“Now you're just being pessimistic.”
I smiled and let my cheek rest on my knees. It was nice to hear his voice in a regular conversation. After we'd been drugged, these exchanges felt a little foggy. At least now there was a hint of normalcy to them.
“I trust you.”
“Thanks, Ras.”
It was the first length of time—without the hindrance of drugs—that Rasmus and I were alone in matching but separate cells, and it did nothing to calm down the slight claustrophobia I seemed to be suffering with. Even having the cell to myself, they were the same walls and they continued to close in on me. The addition of furniture couldn't even rid me of the feeling that thickened my throat. I needed open fields and the endless blue of the summer sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.
The cabin fever stirred a restlessness inside of me and I paced for hours, trying to stop myself from hyperventilating while toeing the line of panic. I longed to stretch my legs and run around the palace grounds as I had done for months. My legs seemed to itch under the surface as they waited for the burn I so often pushed myself through, but there was nothing but these walls in this tiny cell.
“Cass, talk to me,” Ras said quietly. I was certain he could hear the tremulous rhythm in my breaths as I tried to keep my mind calm and on the rut I was treading into the cell floor.
“It's worse without you in the room,” I muttered, placing my hand on the rough wall. “It feels like the walls keep making the space smaller and smaller. They keep closing in, constricting me. I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“It's just your mind making it seem that way. Try to relax. You’re not doing yourself any favors right now.”
“I'm really trying,” I said on the breath out as I planted both hands on my hips. The space was so small I was sure I would graze my elbows on either side of the damn room.
“Okay. Okay, tell me about the hospital you were in.”
I stopped walking and stared at the wall as though I could see through it. “What? Why?”
“To distract you mostly and I’ve always been curious about it.”
I made my way back to the bars and grabbed one with each hand. “Well… What do you want to know?”
“How did you get in that situation in the first place? I mean, I know the man your mother was married to was partially to blame, but what gave him the idea?”
I laughed without humor. “I was seventeen. I was admitted under their care just before I was eighteen so my parents could commit me without the hassle of me being able to argue. I'd heard and seen the death of a girl. I was delirious, then did something really fucking stupid.” I placed my forehead against the metal.
“Like walking out in front of a car?”
I stopped and stared at the other side of my cage and frowned. I’d been referring to my intimacy with the razor blade, but I had also walked in front of a car. I’d been so preoccupied with getting to the girl that I hadn’t been aware of anything else… I blinked.
“That was you?” I asked in awe, my heart hammering in my throat almost painfully.
“No.” He huffed out a weak laugh. “That was Damon. I remember that day clearly. It was one of our first assignments together. I was in the village fighting with him. We’d just cleared out two houses and were charging toward a third. He must have heard your scream. Then a gust of wind whipped at my back and he was gone.”
“He was there?” I asked, my eyes pooling with tears as the horrendous memory of that day smashed against my skull. So much had happened since then it was impossible to remember every detail with any kind of clarity. Yet somehow, when I really let myself think back to that day, I wasn't all that surprised it had been Damon who’d saved me. He was always saving me, even when I didn’t need to be.
Seeing his face, even in my memories, made me miss him so much. I longed for him and the safety his arms always offered. My dreams had helped me get through some of the agony of being without him, but they still weren't enough by a long shot.
I felt a prickle in my eyes as the reality of possibly dying without feeling his touch again washed over me. My thoughts became a maelstrom of mourning, and missing Damon more than ever started the painful breaths of panic all over again.
“Hey, Cass,” Ras said quietly, not understanding the path my thoughts had taken me on. “I just tried working out what day it was today. I think... I think it's your birthday.”
I laughed bitterly and rocked back from the bars, letting gravity take over as my arms straightened and the weight of my body locked them in place as I hung there. I managed to get out of the surprise birthday they'd been planning after all, I thought bitterly. It had been such a source of derision for me, but in this moment, I would have taken being at my birthday party surrounded by the people I loved over being held hostage in a cave cage with no hint of light.
Thinking back on my complaining, I started to loathe myself. I had been so selfish and self-involved, acting as though I was above having
a party because all of my prior birthdays had been ignored or passed over like they hadn’t mattered. These people who loved me the most wanted to celebrate my life, to show how much they loved me. I should have embraced the gesture and their kindness. Instead, I had pouted like a spoiled child.
If I ever got out of this situation I would never take my life for granted again. Every moment would mean something, and I would cherish it. I would remember every one of the people who had lost their lives protecting mine and make sure the people who loved them the most knew how much we valued them. I wouldn't mess with Rasmus and his formal guard pacing—when it was necessary—and I would spend every waking moment memorizing every second I had with Damon, every intricate color in his eyes and that way he looked at me like he couldn’t quite believe I was there with him. I would tell him I loved him until he was sick of hearing it and drown myself in the lust that kissing him gave me.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Ras.” I snorted. “You think we'll be out of here in time for my surprise party? I think I’ve changed my mind about it.”
“Doubtful, twinkle toes, but when we get out of here you owe me a dance, you got it?”
“Done and done.” I laughed genuinely for the first time in what felt like forever. “At least I finally got you to admit there was a party.”
He laughed in his usual deep, resonating guffaw and shook the bars on his cell as though looking for a miracle.
“Cass, there's something you should know about your part—”
“Shh, Ras, there's someone coming,” I said, cutting him off and retreating further into my hole.
The footfalls of whoever was approaching were measured and even as they neared, and I was certain they belonged to Grigori, but I backed myself into the corner out of caution anyway. If it was necessary to defend myself, I needed to be prepared. I relaxed imperceptibly when it was Grigori who stopped outside of my cell. I was surprised to see him in just his red uniform pants, and a white shirt. It made him look more relaxed and less intimidating when he wasn’t completely formal. I was glad to see that he wasn't wearing his mask either.