Page 34 of The Vampire Court

But that doesn’t stop guilt from souring my soul.

I never should have left her alone. I should have escorted her back here before meeting with Elise.

“I need to ask a favor of you.”

Lawrence eyes me as if he knows he won’t like what I’m about to say. “What?”

“Will you check on Clara when you can?” He opens his mouth to protest but clamps his mouth shut. “Please,” I add.

His face softens. “I will see what I can do, but you and I both know I can’t make any promises where Elizabeth is involved. It might take some time. I may not even be able to get to her before the trial.”

“I know,” I say. “Thank you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Clara

Hours pass,but Alaric never comes. I strain, listening for any sign of footsteps or voices, but the only sound in this dungeon is the drip, drip, drip of water, and the occasional rattle of chains from what I can only assume are other prisoners.

I count the seconds and minutes by the incessant drip. Not even a single guard enters this level, not since I was dumped in this cell. I wonder if Cassius has told Alaric what happened by now. If not, he’s probably wondering where I am.

The light filtering through the cell door remains constant. I have no way of telling time. After a while, my eyes grow heavy from being drained of so much blood and being locked away in the dark for hours on end.

I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this cell alive, let alone out of this situation. I knew killing the vampire would be a death sentence, but there hadn’t been much of a choice. Swallowing hard, I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knee.

There’s a lump in my boot. I reach in and pull out the dagger.

Holding it up in front of me, I contemplate how I might use it to escape. The blade glints in the low light. I could pick the cell lock, but if I manage to do that, I would still need to get out of the dungeon, make my way through the castle, and… and an entire list of things that would be near impossible, even uninjured.

I slide it into the sheath along the inside of my arm. Reaching up, I press my hand to the wound at my neck. My fingers come away damp, but my skin is whole though still tender. I’m healing faster than any human should. Vague thoughts of the mark come to mind—there really isn’t another explanation for it.

I lean back against the stone and stretch out my legs, exhaustion thick in my bones. I relax as much as possible, given the uneven ground.

My eyes snap open and I draw in a sharp breath. I jerk upright, hissing at the stiffness in my muscles—especially my neck. I stare into the dark, searching for whatever woke me.

A shiver works its way down my spine. I’m cold. It’s hard to tell if the shock of being injured finally wore off or if this cell is colder now than before.

Once more, I listen for any sign that something has changed, but again, there’s nothing. My mouth is uncomfortably dry. I need water.

A shiver runs over me again, but this time it’s not from the cold. My pulse kicks up, pounding until it roars in my ears.

I scan the cell again. Nothing is different, nothing out of place. There are no new sounds or smells, so why do I feel like I’m no longer alone?

The corner next to the waste bucket is dark, darker than the rest of the cell. I squint into the shadows, barely able to make out the stone texture of the wall.

A door opening pulls my attention away.

Two—no,three—voices speak, but their words are too muffled to make out. One set of footsteps stops, a rattle of keys then the sound of thin metal being dropped on the ground followed by the clank of the cell. Then, the footsteps join the other two again.

On and on it goes for several minutes before one of them reaches my cell. The torchlight at his back shadows the large figure. He stands for a long moment, just watching me. I don’t dare speak.

He takes three quick steps in and hisses. My hand twitches, wanting to reach for the dagger. If I lure him closer, I could use it on him…

I quickly reject that idea. Killing another vampire will only make this situation worse, and there’s no way I could dispatch all three of the guards.

“Hurry up,” the man behind him says. He swings the torch around. The bright light is blinding, and I have to look away. “We don’t have all night.”

The closest guard drops a metal tray. It clatters, but the bowl manages to stay upright. Then the door slams, and the lock engages. They move on without hesitation. No more doors open after that. Their footsteps fade back the way they came, and I’m once again surrounded by quiet.