Page 22 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Be Your Savior

My skull throbbed as my vision went in and out of focus.

The several hallways I was dragged down blended from the last into the next.

Nausea built in my throat, but I was pushed through an arched doorway before I could upchuck bile.

The room spun as I stumbled only to collapse onto the rug spread across the stone floor.

The closing door sounded distant. At some point, my shackles had been removed, but my arms were still prickling with pins and needles. Except I was too exhausted to move a muscle…

It was the damnedest thing, but I smelled water. As I forced my crusty eyes open, instinct took over, and I crawled across the room toward a basin in the shadows. Unable to stand fast enough, I grasped the edge and dunked my head into the shallow tub before gulping mouthfuls.

The water tasted different, almost sour, and the air smelled weird. Stale, like nobody else had been in this room for a long time. When I emerged from the basin, looking around to try and distract myself from my cramping stomach threatening my gag reflex, I frowned at the oddly homey interior.

A large four-poster bed sat opposite the paneled windows—boarded up from the outside.

The edge of sparse sunlight surrounding the shutters’ perimeter barely illuminated the piles of pillows and blankets adorning the made up bed.

Too tempted to resist, and with my thirst finally quenched after what must have been days of dehydration, I staggered across the Persian rug to the bed.

Not bothering to be nice about it, I yanked the covers off to surround myself in a cocoon of wool and cotton. Then I sat down on the mattress, and that was a mistake. Immediately, everything came crashing down. The spare moment of rest triggered shivers that racked my body, and panic erupted.

There was no escape, but still I tried the locked windows.

I pounded against the glass with everything I had.

Tried to pierce it with furniture I’d kicked until it busted into splintered stakes.

Shin bruised and throbbing, I went to the door, the only way in or out since the windows were apparently magicked to be invincible.

“Hey!” I screamed, my throat hoarse from disuse. “Let me out of here!” I slammed my palm against the solid wooden door, but it didn’t budge. “You can’t keep me locked in here forever!”

Suddenly, I stopped. Because they could .

Nobody was coming for me, and they must have had Drake restrained—locked down tight after what happened in the entrance hall.

Tears spilled over my lashes, running down my cheeks in waves I couldn’t stop.

I covered my mouth with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut.

None of them would have the satisfaction of hearing me cry. There may be no way out, but… Holding on to a shred of hope, I felt my front jeans pocket. The orb , it was safe, whole. My tears stopped falling. Devastation turned into resilience, and the anticipation of revenge.

I didn’t know what the hell the little golden ball did, but as I glared straight at the door ahead of me, I had a suspicious feeling it might be my ticket out of here.

Grayish light darkened around the window’s corners while I sat wrapped in several blankets.

I’d regained sensation in my extremities hours ago, or at least, that was my best guess for how long it’d been.

The watch on my wrist was busted, but I kept it on in case I could use its steel as a blunt weapon in a pinch.

At the slightest creak of the settling manor, my spine stiffened.

When the seconds ticked away, I relaxed into stoic impatience.

A whole day hadn’t passed yet, but my skin crawled with unease.

Deep pits in my stomach ached, gurgling so frequently that it became a repetitive background noise.

How long would it take for me to starve to death?

Focusing was difficult, and my fingers trembled no matter how tightly I clenched my fists. Eventually, the entire room dimmed into pitch black. Time passed in the darkness, and I’d resolved myself for another night in this wretched place when a knock came at the door.

I nearly tripped over my bundle of blankets in my rush to stand at the ready. By the time I steadied, my right foot back and my hands fisted for a fight, the door swung open. Apparently, vampires didn’t need a response to barge in on an unsuspecting prisoner.

“Oh.” The woman’s red-painted lips formed a delicate ‘o’ while she briefly looked me up and down.

Black ringlets fell down the back of her silken scarlet gown, glistening under the candlelight seeping in from the hall as she glanced at the basin by the far wall.

It wasn’t empty, but I’d already drank all of the water.

Her pale nose wrinkled. “You were meant to bathe, human .” The word came out like a slur, and my eyes narrowed.

At least I was alive. While I wanted to tell her ‘too bad,’ I kept my mouth shut. Her blue-eyed gaze swept back to focus on mine, and her lips pursed.

“Ah well, at least the filthy clothes will be stripped away.”

“Excuse me?” Caught off guard, my stance relaxed when she snapped her fingers.

My brow furrowed while an armored hand offered what looked like a garment bag to the woman vampire.

Without a word of thanks or any acknowledgement to the guard, the vampire strode closer while holding the bag aloft by the hook on one end.

“You will not entertain the gathered court dressed in rags. Remove everything, no one will be impressed by the scent oozing off your undergarments.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What is happening?” My fists slowly lowered as I warily eyed the white bag. “Where—Where is Drake?”

“Ignatius Drake?” she tittered, like this was casual gossip between friends, but the shiver that climbed my spine at her hungry stare proved otherwise.

The vampire laid the bag down across the disorganized bed sheets, and unzipped it.

Within was a shocking gown, at least to me, since it was about as fancy as the one the vampire wore.

Green velvet of varying shades formed swirls over the bodice which then flowed down into a multi-layered skirt.

The vampire woman held it up and shimmied it, revealing the loose off-the-shoulder sleeves. How the hell was it meant to stay up? Horror dawned when I put together what she’d said. I was supposed to wear that thing?

“He will stand trial. It is most enjoyable. The last execution was ages ago.” Her attention remained on the dress while my stomach knotted. Then those beady eyes turned on me. “Of course, you will be a most helpful material witness.”

“Witness?” More like a hostage, but that would be semantics among vampires. The woman either ignored or didn’t catch my sarcastic tone because she simply hummed a sound of agreement, and placed the dress back on the bed.

“Your escort will arrive shortly. I hope the dress fits.” She eyed my full hips, and I shifted from one foot to the other.

“If not, perhaps Lucian will have you taken to his private rooms—nude.” A catty smile flitted across her face on her exit.

Movement a blur, she left the room with such haste that it must’ve been meant to unsettle me.

Except as the door clicked shut, locked once more from the outside, I couldn’t suppress my shiver. Come hell or high water, I was going to stuff myself into that damn dress. I wiped my sweaty palms on my disgusting jeans and then unbuttoned them.

The orb in my pocket went straight into my sock, held snugly between my foot and combat boot.

Alone, and naked, since my underwear reeked as badly as my tank top, I worked on getting the dress over my head.

Even with the zipper undone, it was a hassle figuring out which were the neck and arm holes.

By the time it was on straight, it felt like my ribs were encased in fabric shackles.

No matter how many times I held my breath, the stupid zipper was stuck only a couple of inches from closing.

Flushed and frustrated, I gave up on it.

Then I plopped onto the bed to catch my breath from the minimal effort.

This wasn’t good, and even with the orb up my sleeve—or down my sock—I had no idea what it was meant to do or really how to activate it.

I closed my eyes for a long moment that turned into several more while my heart raced. There was no knock at the door before it creaked, and my eyes flew open. I was on my feet instantly, woozy but determined not to show it. Especially when I recognized who stood in the back-lit doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, and the sorcerer had the gall to look offended by my tone.

“Every respectable young lady needs an escort,” Ezra answered, the corners of his lips twitching when my eyes narrowed.

“Very funny,” I grumbled, frowning at his offered arm. Undead monsters lunging at my throat, I could handle. Outdated etiquette in the proverbial lion’s den was way out of my comfort zone. When I showed no indication of moving things along, Ezra sighed.

“You will fare better if you play your part,” he advised, and I scoffed.

“Is that what you’re doing? Are you just acting like a traitor to your own kind, or are you really that low?” Despite my vitriol, Ezra appeared unfazed.

“It’s the latter. Happy?” His bright smile lit up his piercing green eyes. Gritting my teeth, I stared at his arm.

“Do I have to?” I asked, my voice smaller than intended, and only then did it seem like Ezra’s expression faltered.

“It’s in your best interest.” His tone was flat, but there was something in his stare that made me uncomfortable. Like I was being scrutinized under an x-ray. Then his attention traveled lower, landing on my boot. A frown pinched his features, and I quickly closed the distance between us.