Page 35 of The Vampire Court

I counted four cell doors opening and closing—five including me.

Getting to my feet, I use the wall as I make my way to my meal. It’s some sort of grayish mush. I squat, lifting the bowl to my face and sniff then recoil, barely suppressing a gag. It smells like it’s a month old and made of scraps no one would want to eat when it was fresh, let alone feed to a person.

I am notthathungry yet.

I drop the bowl back to the tray and stand, shoving the slop into the corner with my foot as I approach the bars. I press my face against them and look out as much as possible. Not a single guard in sight.

“Hello?” I call out then wait for an answer.

When none comes, I wrap my fingers around the bars next to the lock and feel around.

Unsheathing the dagger, I look again to make sure I’m truly alone. Then, slowly, I reach my hand out between the bars and feel for the keyhole. Unable to see the lock from this angle, I guide the tip of the blade with my finger but can’t maneuver it from inside the cell. I’m not that skilled of a lock pick. After several minutes, my hands and arms start to tingle. I sit back on my heel, running the back of my hand over my clammy forehead.

Giving up, I use the wall for support and go back to the corner farthest from the door and the waste bucket then collapse on the ground. The blood loss must be getting to me.

My stomach chooses this second to grumble loudly. Food might help me get some energy back… I wrinkle my nose at the unsavory gruel.

My hunger is just uncomfortable enough that I can use it to help me stay awake.

It works, for what feels like hours, or possibly days. It’s impossible to tell with the never-changing light. Seconds, minutes, hours—they all blend together. Time has no meaning.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing slow and deep. After a few breaths, the unsettling feeling of not being alone returns. I’m careful not to move a muscle, waiting for it to pass, but it only intensifies. I peek through my lashes. It’s useless. There’s not enough light to make out any details. Abandoning all pretense of sleep, I open my eyes fully, scanning the cell. Nothing.

Am I going crazy?

At some point, I fall asleep only to startle awake. The arm under my head is half numb from being used as a pillow, and my legs, knees curled up, are cramped. I rub the sleep from my eyes and push up to sitting.

Alaric hasn’t come for me yet, and the longer he stays away, the more I think he won’t be able to—but I have to believe he’s trying.

Another meal is brought to me, and this time, I am almost hungry enough to attempt to eat. I’ve been hungrier than this before. It’s painful, but it’s an ache I know. It’s familiar, though it will get worse before my body gives out.

I stare at the ceiling as hot tears form, the pressure building and blurring my vision. Crying will only dehydrate me faster. I press the heel of my hands into my eyes. When I open them again, the space above seems darker. I squint.

The shadow congeals, growing thicker, taking shape until it’s an unmistakable black mass.

Demon.

They lower down, hovering inches above. I’m frozen in place. The majority of their body remains a thick cloud of black smoke, but out of their amorphous form, two arms protrude, boney and misshapen, fingers unfurling and becoming talons at the tips. The sharp points caress my cheek.

The touch is… familiar.

Their energy feels softer. It’s not warm like Alaric’s powers or cold and slimy like Victor’s had been.

The demon’s mouth stretches. Then, they lower their skull-shaped head within inches of my face. Wintery breath brushes over my cheeks. They are a greater demon, similar to the one that chased me from the forest to Alaric’s doorstep, but this one is different somehow.

“You are right, human,” they whisper.

I blink up into the face, skeletal and charred.Demon’s and saints… they can read my mind.

“Yooou muuust staaaay aliiive. It isss not your tiiiime to die. Yooou are needed. Do not be a stupid huuuman. Eat the gruel the vampires give you if you must.” Their words become clearer as they speak.

They grip my head in both hands, and there’s a blinding flash of red light. Power flows through me, cold like ice but malleable like tilled dirt. I feel it in every inch of my body, every muscle, every fiber. The demon’s power borders on searing pain but doesn’t quite cross that threshold.

Then, it’s gone, and I feel whole again. Every ache and pain is gone. When I test my muscles, I’m still weak, though there is a vast improvement.

“How long have I been down here?” I ask.

“A day and a half.”