Page 86 of Tainted Souls
“Lord Cain will send for you when it’s time,” one guard informs me, his voice devoid of emotion.
The door slams shut, the sound of a heavy lock sliding into place echoing in the confined space.
I sit on the edge of the cot, trying to control my breathing. Panic won’t help me now. I need to think, to plan.
I close my eyes, centering myself. My hands are uncuffed now. The cell is secure, but not impenetrable. And most importantly, I’m alive, which means I still have a chance.
My focus shifts to the tracker in my arm. Redmoore technology is designed to function under extreme conditions. While being this deep underground could be blocking the signal, there’s a chance that if I can get closer to the surface, to a thinner section of wall or ceiling, the tracker might ping just enough to give them a direction.
Until then, I just need to keep Cain talking. The more he reveals about himself, the better I can counter him. And if there’s one thing I am certain of, it’s that Cain loves to talk almost as much as he loves power.
Time loses all shape in my windowless cell, the hours dissolving into one another. Eleven marks now scar the wall, carved with a sharp stone I pried loose. Sleep comes in fitful bursts, continuously interrupted by guards bringing stale water and cups of warm, thick, and unmistakably fresh blood. Thekind that hasn’t been bottled or treated, but squeezed from a human, probably unwilling, maybe still alive when they took it. The thought churns my stomach, but hunger churns deeper, gnawing at the edges of my reason. Afterward, there’s nothing to do but listen.
Down here, sound is either meaningless or final—dripping water, settling stone, air moving through unseen vents, mortar dust whispering loose when doors slam, and occasionally, a scream that cuts off too cleanly. Vampire hearts get torn out for disobedience or incompetence, yet the corridors never thin.
Every once in a while, I probe the cell’s weaknesses, but to no avail. Not the grout between masonry. Not the hinges on the door. Not the torch bracket that might serve as a weapon. Nothing.
Just dread and boredom that fester.
On what I think is the twelfth day, the lock of my cell clicks and the door swings open. Cain stands in the threshold, dressed ridiculously impeccable in a tailored suit that makes the dingy surroundings seem even more dismal by comparison. “Rise and shine, my reluctant bride,” he announces with that insufferable flourish he seems to think makes him charming. “The stars have aligned, the moon is waxing, and our big day has arrived.”
I remain seated on the cot, my arms crossed. “What are you talking about?”
“The ritual,” he says, chuckling, as if explaining to a child. “Lucien has completed the preparations. Tonight, we shall forge our bond, and I claim my place in the sun.” He tilts his head, eyeing my disheveled appearance with distaste. “But first, you need a bath. Can’t have you looking like that for our special moment.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say flatly.
His smile doesn’t falter. “I thought you might say that. That’s why I’ve arranged a little motivation. Your mother sends her regards.”
My heart stutters, calling his bluff. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He snaps his fingers and two guards appear behind him, dragging a woman in between them.
She’s blindfolded and gagged, wrists bound in front of her with iron links.
“Mom?” I haven’t seen her since I was a child. Most of what I know about her comes secondhand, filtered through my father’s voice when he reminiscently spoke of her.
I lunge forward, but Cain pushes me back against the wall with one hand. With a flick of his other hand, she’s pulled back into the corridor like a prop exiting stage left. He doesn’t even glance at her.
And I didn’t even get to really see her.
I hurl at him, blind with rage, but two new guards catch me before I can reach him.
Cain laughs, gesturing for his guards to stand down. “There is the fire I’ve been missing. Save some of that energy for tonight.” He then turns toward the guards, moving past them as he speaks. “Bring her to the bathing chamber.”
The guards drag me through meandering corridors, deeper into the underground complex. We pass other cells, most of them empty but a few containing shadowy figures who press against the bars to watch us pass. The air grows warmer, heavy with moisture, until we reach a small chamber where a steaming pool is carved into the floor.
Ornate columns support the ceiling, braziers casting flickering light across the water’s surface. I scan the room in hopes of spotting a window of some kind, but all I’m surrounded by are four thick rock walls.
Apparently their version of a bathroom is just a waterhole inside some cave.
“Leave us,” Cain commands, and the guards retreat to the entrance.
“I’m not bathing with you watching,” I say, disgusted.
“Don’t be such a prude,” he replies, circling the pool. “Besides, I’m not giving you the chance to drown yourself. I know how resourceful you can be.”
I glare at him. “You really don’t have a shred of decency, do you?”
