Page 10

THE LAST DESCENDANT

GRACE

I can do this. Mom and I used to watch Dateline all the time.

We’d get two bags of popcorn, bring all our blankets out to the couch, and binge several episodes in a row.

We’d yell at the lady getting murdered, telling her how to escape, as if she wasn’t already dead.

By the time I was eighteen, I felt like I knew all the tricks.

Attempted kidnapping in public? Scream your lungs out. The odds of them hurting you with an audience is far less likely than if they get you alone.

Locked in a trunk? Kick the tail light and stick your hand out until another driver notices you.

Being kept in multiple places? Leave clues for the police. Strands of hair. Spit. Blood. Whatever.

Be observant. Gain your abductor’s trust. Stay calm and find an opportunity to escape.

I’m pretty sure Mom and I watched most, if not all, of the Dateline episodes from the last ten years. None of them featured paralysis-by-potion, abduction to a new world, or a vampire assailant.

In other words, I’m screwed .

“Okay, focus,” I whisper to myself. “Figure it out.”

Avoiding or escaping a kidnapping seemed so much easier when I watched it on TV. Now that I’m here, kept in a barren room with one door and no windows…I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.

I’ve been pacing the room ever since the paralysis faded.

My brain is too overloaded with the past twelve hours to make sense of anything.

From being sped across Aberlena, to entering Aberlena University and somehow exiting in this unfamiliar world, my brain doesn’t want to think.

It doesn’t want to stay calm. It wants to panic, to leave me huddled in a ball, scream crying until I wake up.

I wonder if Tessa has woken up, or if that’s just another of Sebastian’s lies. If she’s dead, it’s all my fault. A ragged sob leaves my throat before I can stop it. I should be out of tears by now, but they’re still coming, steadily streaming down my face.

“No,” I snap at myself. “ Focus , Grace. You have to stay calm.”

I know I’m in some sort of stone mansion.

It was hard to make sense of anything while we were moving, but I think I’m several miles from the Aberlena University look-alike building.

Even if I manage to break out of this room, I’ll have to figure out how to get back to it.

There’s got to be a map somewhere in this place.

Or maybe, I’ll find an empathetic soul who will help me escape.

An empathetic vampire, Grace, really?

I pace the room again. It’s about the size of my college dorm room. It’s all grey stones, weathered wood floor, and a twin-size bed in the center. There isn’t a dresser or a TV or anything that suggests I’m not an absolute prisoner.

There’s no toilet either. So if Sebastian doesn’t come back in the next couple of hours, I’m going to have to pee in the corner like an actual animal.

Pace.

The police will be at my and Tessa’s apartment. They’ll make sure she survives Sebastian’s attack, and same with the landlord. They’ll both be fine, and they’ll make sure the police know what happened to me. There will be footage of Sebastian arriving at the building…

Unless vampires don’t show up on film? Is that just mirrors? Is that even true ?

Pace.

Realistically, I don’t actually know Sebastian is a vampire.

That’s what he said, and he’s proven to be far more dishonest than honest. He’s probably just an insane cult leader, and that liquid he gave me was some sort of muscle relaxing drug.

The wound I thought I gave him was actually just an illusion.

A prank, a magic trick, something logical.

This is all fake. That’s it. It has to be.

I stride to the wooden door. Iron stripes line it, but there’s no handle on this side. I slam my fist against the wood.

“Hey!” I scream. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

No one responds.

I press my ear to the door, straining for sound. It must be too thick, or maybe I’ve been left here to rot. That might be the best case scenario. Something tells me starvation will be better than whatever Sebastian is planning.

I wet my lips. My stomach curdles at the thought of torture. I’ve never claimed to be tough. I’m fragile, delicate, and I’m not too proud to admit I’ve got a low pain tolerance. If Sebastian is gearing up to torture me, I’m never going to last .

I don’t knock again, too afraid of what will happen if he answers.

He comes hours later. At least, I think it’s multiple hours.

It’s impossible to know without a clock or a window.

All I do know is that I’ve been sitting on this bed, knees drawn to my chest, long enough that my butt hurts.

I’ve been thinking about New York and what I should be doing with Libby.

Depending on the time, she’s probably out with friends for dinner, having bougie drinks and making weekend plans. Maybe they’re celebrating her new job.

“Hello, little witch,” Sebastian says. He stands in the doorway, studying me with a careful expression. “It’s time to go.”

“Back to Aberlena?” I ask, even though I know it’s stupid.

“No. I have someone for you to meet,” Sebastian says. He leans against the doorframe. “I think you’ll like her.”

“I highly doubt that,” I say. I shove back on the bed, until I’m as far as I physically can be. If there was anything other than a sheet on this bed, I’d wrap it around myself like a pathetic shield.

“It’s time to go,” he says again. He beckons me with his hand but remains outside the door. “Come.”

I grind my teeth together, not moving for a prolonged moment.

I know it’s useless to defy him. He can easily overpower me, and I’m sure he’s got a whole slew of those vials somewhere on his person.

He’s shed the long coat from earlier and now wears black slacks and a buttoned shirt with the sleeves cuffed.

“Grace—”

“It’s cold in here,” I say as I shove to my feet. “Since you supposedly need me, you should turn up the heat. Otherwise I’m going to die of hypothermia.”

I stop a foot short, lifting my chin to glare at him. He’s only a couple inches taller than I am, but there’s something undeniably frightening about his appearance. It’s the curl of his lip, I decide. The subtle turn of his mouth that promises violence without care.

Sebastian steps back, into the dimly lit hallway.

He sweeps his hand in a wide gesture, signaling for me to walk in front of him.

I keep my chin tilted as I walk, striding past elaborate paintings, drape-covered windows, and the occasional stone bust. It feels like we’re on a movie set, designed to look like an ancient European castle.

There are no lights. No signs of electricity. Small candles hang on the wall, spaced evenly and ineffectively dim. Does this place not have modern technology? Are they really relying on freaking wax candles to see?

The odds of getting heat in my room vanish the farther I walk.

Maybe the door we stepped through brought us, not to another place, but to another time.

I reach a split in the hallway and pause.

“Left,” he says.

I glance back at him, surprised at his distance. It’s unsettling in a way I can’t explain. I certainly don’t want him standing against me, hand on my neck to keep me obedient. And yet, it seems like he should be.

I glance down the right branch. It’s lined with doors and as eerily empty as everywhere else in this place.

I turn left. This hallway is empty too, but the doors are packed more tightly together.

Some are blank, but most feature a metal sign, branded with one old-fashioned name or another. Tomas. Cecilia. Adelaide. Rasmus .

We continue on like this. Sebastian only speaks to give directions, and I remain silent.

I keep mental tabs as we go, searching desperately for doors that lead outside.

None ever appear, and eventually, we arrive at the end of a hallway identical to all the others.

Only now, there’s nowhere to go. I study the gold plate on the door.

“Cora?” I ask, turning toward Sebastian.

“Our resident witch.”

I lift an eyebrow, but before I can ask any questions, Sebastian knocks.

The door opens immediately. A woman with a tight black ponytail and large features stares at me.

Her attention is different from Sebastian’s.

It’s less hostile, less desperate. She’s looking at me as if I am somehow both friend and foe.

“Grace Pruce,” she says eventually.

“Renolds,” I correct. Because after I turned eighteen, I changed my surname to match my mother’s.

I believed Walter Pruce had abandoned us, despite my mother’s claims, and I didn’t want a tie to the man who didn’t want me.

Now, I feel a flicker of guilt. Maybe, if I ever get out of this hellish place, I’ll hyphenate.

“Pruce,” she says again. She tilts her head, eyes sharpening. “Your father never spoke of you.”

“How nice,” I say flatly.

“For the best,” she says. She has one hand on either side of the doorframe, as if barricading us from entering. “You would’ve been slaughtered years ago if the coven knew.”

I don’t know what that means, so I don’t respond. I should point out that, despite my father’s supposed protection, I’ve still ended up here. Held captive for a reason I don’t understand. If I can’t find a way out of here, I have no doubt they’ll slaughter me eventually .

“She’s weak,” Cora says. For the first time, she looks at Sebastian. “I’m surprised.”

“Half-human then?” Sebastian asks. He stands to my right, a step behind me.

“Most likely,” she says, nodding. “Hopefully it’s enough.”

“It will have to be,” Sebastian says. He steps closer, shoulder brushing mine. I instantly shift to the left, breaking contact. If he notices, he doesn’t comment. He only stares at Cora. “It has to be enough, Cora. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she says. Her throat bobs, the first indication she’s unsettled by the man behind me.

Master ?