Page 9

Eight

HARLOW

I’m still processing the vampire’s visit long after he goes—long after I’ve finished the apple and drank a few sips from the water bottle, opting to conserve it since I don’t know the next time I’ll receive any.

I remain in the same position on the ground, creating warmth from my body. The rock I filed down into a weapon remains close so I don’t accidentally misplace it in the dark. I didn’t count on the vampire to visit so we could only talk . The two times he got near enough, I debated going forward with my plan, but considering I was on the ground beneath him, he still held the upper hand. There will be a better time, and it’s probably when he lets me out of the cell.

With his absence, the pressure from the small space returns, but this time, driven by determination and the strength of the single fruit, I pace the cell, trying to keep myself mentally grounded.

It also works to exhaust my body. I soon retake my place, makeshift weapon in hand, and curl up. Ignoring the walls and the shadows that creep into their places, I shut my eyes, managing to doze a little.

* * *

Sleep only lasts so long before I’m awake again. Without windows, I can’t tell if it’s day or night, but I take the time to continue working at my weapon, wanting it to be as sharp as possible if this is to work.

At some point, the door from down the hallway opens again, so I return to my earlier position, seeming every bit the pathetic witch he revels in me as. Legs drawn up with arms around them, the hallway lights flick on, basking the room in a dullness that removes some of the suffocation.

My cell opens, and he steps over the useless runes he ruined at this last visit. He crosses the cell, snapping his fingers. “Up. My guests will be arriving in an hour, and your appearance leaves something to be desired.”

That’ll be a no. I remain seated.

He steps towards the entrance, flicking his fingers for me to follow. “Come.”

Still a no.

Two steps from the cell and without turning around, he rumbles, “You’d do well not to test me, Sinclair. You won’t like what happens.”

I speak for the first time since he’s entered. “You won’t kill me. It’d go against your entire ‘sell the witch’ plan.”

He whirls, black eyes glinting in the dull light. “Death isn’t the most painful thing I can do to you. In fact, death would be a reprieve. Get up, unless you’d like me to demonstrate some of those ways.”

Grumbling beneath my breath, I do, because if I have any chance of getting free, step one is leaving the dungeon. There’s no other option other than listening to him, at least for now, even though obeying him is the last thing I want. He doesn’t need more power over me than he already has.

Clenching my weapon, I position it so the sharp point is against the thin skin of my palm and follow him towards the door I tried to escape from yesterday. It groans beneath the weight, but his strength makes it seem like he’s opening a thin closet door.

He steps to the side, gesturing. “Go first. I don’t trust you not to fall and die or something ridiculous, assuming it’ll be your ticket to freedom.”

I skirt by him, pressing close to the doorframe to avoid brushing his arm. “And trust you to catch me if I do?”

“You said so yourself that I need you alive. So yes, catching you is precisely what I’d do. Noting that, don’t be stupid and test my benevolence. Just walk quickly.”

I study the skinny stone steps twirling in a circle, the top unable to be seen from here. The distance between each step seems rather high, and after lifting my leg to the first one, I already know this will suck.

“Why the fuck are these steps so far from one another? Who the hell were they built for?” I mutter beneath my breath, managing my second one, my burning calf telling me I’m not fit enough for this.

Surprisingly, he responds—because of course his vampiric hearing allowed him to hear my grumble. “Humans have shrunken over the centuries. The men once meant to use these stairs were quite large, at least by today’s standards.”

Not that I want to act interested in anything this vampire says, but that was oddly intriguing. It once again makes me wonder how old he is and all the things he’s seen.

“Why’s that?”

“Humans no longer live off the land. Everything they consume is manufactured. Coupled with natural evolution. The biggest thing to fear nowadays is corporate greed and retinas burning from social media, so humans’ bodies are no longer built for surviving in the wilderness.”

Did the vampire just make a joke?

I glance over my shoulder and nearly trip on the next step at the sight of his lowered face, half masked by his hair, revealing a barely there smirk. He looks entirely roguish, and that is the only nice thing I’ll ever allow myself to think about the asshole.

Halfway up the stairs, right when my legs are burning from the workout, he sighs. and I have a fairly good idea why.

“Not all of us are equipped with immortal energy, asshole.”

“You could at least attempt to walk faster.”

“Do you want me to fall and break my neck?”

We’re close to the top of the steps, and this might be my best chance. If the change can happen on a staircase, surely that’ll make it easier to get rid of him. He’ll be weak and easy to kick down.

I reposition the pointy rock into my palm, squeezing tight to dig in and— Fuck, this hurts like a bitch.

What the vampire has in store for me will hurt more, which becomes my motivation to keep going. No matter what, though, my skin refuses to break. Maybe I didn’t make it sharp enough…maybe my body’s natural protective instincts are taking over and not allowing me to push it in as much as it needs to.

I stagger on the next step, which gives me an idea, and since we’re only two from the top, it’s now or never. For the next one, I purposely trip myself by not lifting my leg as high while simultaneously tightening my grip on the rock. When I land, knee on one step, palms catching me on another, there’s an instant sting, the rock successfully making a slice.

The vampire sighs again and mutters something about witches being no better than humans. Except humans are completely powerless, while I’m not.

I lift my bloodied hand, slowly unpeeling the fingers to check the injury; a small slice about half an inch long. Just enough for blood to seep from it.

I straighten and turn towards the vampire, readying myself for what I hope will be my final interaction with him. He catches the scent of my blood almost immediately, black eyes dart to my injured hand, his nostrils flaring with his intake of breath—of my scent.

Before he realizes what I’m doing, I push my sliced palm against his mouth, ensuring enough of the blood stains his lips, knowing it’s likely enough when the tip of his fang grazes my hand. It’s sharp like a knife, and I’m momentarily stricken by that alarming fact.

But that’s all the thought I give before twisting back around and taking off up the final two steps. Although I’ve never witnessed the transition from vampire to human, I have a vague enough idea how it works. A few drops, and within a moment or two, the transition will start. I’ve always been mildly curious in a masochistic way, and even though this is probably my only chance to witness it, I don’t stick around.