Page 114 of Incoronate
“How long have you been in Sanguinarium?” asked Dominic, his eyes moving over the settlement with unhurried interest as though he were taking inventory. “I imagine it’s been a while to put all this together.”
“Long enough,” he agreed but offered nothing else.
“Are we talking months or years?” I asked, hating that I needed to know and already afraid of the answer.
The two men exchanged another look. Something shifted between them, some private calculation being run. “Time moves differently here,” said the taller one. It was the first time he’d spoken. His voice was lower than I’d expected, intentional in a way that suggested he didn’t use it often. “You stop counting after a while.”
The chill that moved through me had nothing to do with the temperature. I silently prayed I wouldn’t be here long enough to ever know what he meant by that.
“What about the others?” asked Trace, nodding toward the perimeter, where figures still moved between the structures. “How many of you are there?”
“Enough,” said the shorter one.
“That’s not really an answer,” I pointed out.
“No,” he agreed pleasantly. “It’s not.”
Trace shifted his weight almost imperceptibly beside me, and I knew without looking at him that his hand had moved closer to the stake at his back. The shorter one clocked it immediately, his eyes dropping to the movement and then rising again without any change in expression.
“We’re not looking for any trouble,” I said calmly, hoping to quell some of the tension that had suddenly sprung up in the air. “We’re just looking for information.”
“You’re looking for a way out.” His gaze moved slowly between the three of us, lingering a half-second too long on me before returning to Trace. “You’re not going to find that here.”
“Because you don’t know of one, or because you don’t want to tell us?”
“Because it doesn’t exist.” Something moved across his face. Not quite amusement. Not quite bitterness. Something worn smooth by repetition, the expression of someone who had made peace with an answer they didn’t like.
“It does exist, and we’re going to find it,” I informed, refusing to let his hopelessness creep in before we even had a chance to come up with a solid plan. “We’re not planning on staying here a second longer than we need to.”
“Everyone who comes through the seam plans to leave soon,” he said bitterly. “Some of them are still planning.”
The words hit their mark. I felt them land somewhere in the middle of my chest and sit there, heavy and deliberate. But I didn’t look away from him, and I didn’t let them settle.
“I’m not everyone,’ I said, the vow coming out more solid and even than my voice had any business being.
He studied me for another moment. Then he reached up and briefly touched the bone at his septum, an absent,habitual gesture, before dropping his hand. “The name is Cael,” he said. “This is Rhen.” He tipped his head toward the taller one. “And you are?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Dominic spoke first.
“Heathcliff,” he said, without hesitation or so much as a glance in my direction. “ThoughHeathwill do.” He nodded toward Trace, who didn’t react at all, his jaw remaining set. “That’s Edgar. And this is our Catherine,” he finished, his tone softening on the last part.
I looked up at him slowly, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
Of course he reached for Wuthering Heights. Of course he’d cast himself as the brooding, morally compromised antihero who loved too darkly and burned everything around him for it. The man was constitutionally incapable of not being dramatic, even here, with bone-pierced strangers eyeing my throat in a vampire purgatory.
It shouldn’t have made me want to laugh, but I had to fight it back anyway.
Cael’s eyes moved between us, giving nothing away. Whether he believed us or simply didn’t care either way, I couldn’t tell. In a place like this, I imagined false names were the least interesting lie anyone had told him. Rhen’s gaze, however, lingered on me again, his nostrils flaring subtly, scent doing the work his composure wouldn’t allow his expression to.
“Is there anything useful you can tell us about this place?” asked Trace, his cobalt blue eyes on Cael. “About the seam or how it works? Anything that might help us get back through it?”
Cael was quiet for a moment, weighing something. “The seam opens from the other side,” he said finally. “It can’t be forced from in here.”
“Has anyone tried getting through it when it opens?” asked Trace, as I quickly caught up with his train of thought.
“The openings are random. Unpredictable.” Cael’s jaw shifted slightly. “Getting close enough to use one means being out in the open for long stretches with no cover and no guarantee. We don’t do that here.” He paused. “Especially not after the sky goes dark.”
“The sky goes dark?” I glanced upward at the unrelenting red above us.
