Page 67 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

ARTHIE

Arthie unlocked the heavy door with the key Laith had lifted and carefully opened it, heart in her throat. She rarely feared for her life, but she felt bare without Calibore, not as whole and not as strong. She imagined Matteo beside her, telling her otherwise.

“Plotting my death?” Laith asked behind her.

“I don’t need nearly that much effort,” she whispered back. She could hear voices out in the hall.

“I count nine,” Laith said, and Arthie scowled when she saw his head peering through the gap above her. She scanned their prison one last time for anything that might aid their escape, but the Ram had left them nothing. No, she’d taken from Arthie instead.

With a nod, Laith darted through and flattened himself against the opposite wall beside an open doorway. A light flickered from the sconce above his head, casting a wavering shadow beside where two men were in conversation.

Arthie gestured to his shadow, but Laith was clearly not acting at his finest, for he didn’t comprehend quickly enough.

One of the men spotted it.

“Oi, who’s there?” the man asked, and Arthie quickly closed the door, leaving it a smidgen open so she could see.

Laith straightened, watching Arthie. The man kept walking toward them, and when he reached the corner, she nodded.

Laith swung forward and locked his arm around the man’s neck.

Arthie rushed into the hall before the other man could shout, throwing a palm strike to his chin and dropping him immediately.

He fell with a thud, his deadweight knocking a mug off the counter behind him before Arthie dove and caught it.

“Not bad, Casimir,” Laith said, dragging the other man inside. It was a dining space, and together, he and Arthie rolled the men beneath the table, arranging the chairs so that the men were tucked out of sight.

Arthie peered down the corridor. The place was a labyrinth. She couldn’t imagine how much time and effort it would have taken to build out such a thing.

“Do you know where any of the rooms are? The exit?” Arthie asked.

“I was dragged around with a sack over my head, so no,” he said, but he was an assassin, and a sack over his head shouldn’t have hindered the rest of his senses.

As if on cue, he continued. “I did enter through the palace doors, however. They took me through to a door in the back, which is connected to the bunker through a tunnel. A long one at that. I’m guessing we’re not directly beneath the palace, but the lot beside it. ”

That was more information than she thought he could provide.

“I came in directly from the outside,” Arthie said, gesturing to the right. “Through a carriage park. This way.”

Arthie snuck back to the hall, staying close to the wall, Laith on her heels.

They tiptoed past a room where a number of the Ram’s black-clad forces were meeting in low voices, then another armory-type room with knives lining the walls, which would have been greatly convenient except for the fact that there were people there too.

Laith clutched her arm, holding her in place. She turned her head to him sharply, and he nodded to the large, open chamber up ahead. It was full of black-clad forces. There was no chance Arthie and Laith could sneak past, not without alerting them.

“I came from that end,” Arthie whispered. “There’s a short stairwell leading to the door.”

“We can run for it,” Laith suggested, even though he limped with every step. Then he froze, pressing a finger to his lips.

Arthie held herself still. Muffled moans. Stifled cries. They were coming from behind the door across from them. Laith snuck across and tried the handle. Locked. Arthie froze when a grating laugh echoed down the hall, but no one was coming their way.

“Try this,” Arthie said, handing him the key for their room. He slid it in. The lock gave way with a quiet click.

They exchanged a look before he carefully turned the handle, keeping sound to a minimum. He disappeared inside. Arthie hurried in after him.

To find a cage.

It was placed front and center in a large room, like an attraction at a circus. Sconces on all four corners of the large room illuminated the silver bars and what was within.

Humans.

Girls, boys, hair hanging in clumps, clothes coated in grime and blood.

Some were bleeding and scarred, others bruised.

Arthie counted twelve, her pulse rising.

Anger burned hot and red behind her eyes.

She knew without a doubt that these were the humans the Ram had kidnapped off the streets in the span of a week, claiming it was the work of violent vampires.

They rushed to the bars, screaming behind their bindings, eyes frantic, and when Arthie approached, they began shaking their heads, as if… as if warning her.

That was when Arthie registered the other presence in the room. Outside the cage.

“Arthie!” Laith shouted, but it was too late.

Something heavy slammed into the side of her head with a resounding clang, and then her vision went dark.