Page 95 of Tainted Souls
Outside, night presses against the windows, a reminder that dawn is still hours away.
I’m trapped in this mansion with creatures who might be reluctant allies, or executioners, my safety conditional on my usefulness to their cause.
In the best-case scenario, they’ll protect me from Cain. In the worst, they’ll ensure I can’t be used by him, by whatever means necessary.
And somewhere in between, I might just be leveraged and end up back where I was saved from.
The redhead walks in, her face emanating an unfamiliar softness,a quiet warmth that seems to seep into the cold edges of the room. There is no cruelty in her gaze, no hunger, no veiled threat. Just calm. And for a moment, that alone feels like mercy.
“You should rest,” she says. “We have prepared a room for you.”
I follow her out of the lounge, through shadowed corridors adorned with paintings of landscapes I don’t recognize and figures I never want to meet. When we reach the room, the woman gives me a quick tour.
“Bathroom’s through here,” she says, pointing to an ornate door in the corner. “Fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Food will be ready for you soon.”
I simply nod, unsure how to respond.
She treats me like a hotel guest, but we both know that’s just a role she’s playing. Beneath the surface, the stakes are far darker.
The door closes with a soft click, and I don’t miss the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. So much for hospitality.
Alone at last, I explore the room. Everything from the canopied bed to the heavy drapes is rendered in shades of midnight and cerulean. A fire already burns in the grate of a carved fireplace beneath a gilt-framed mirror, its surface cloudy with age.
The intricately barred windows prevent any chance of escape.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, the events of the day crashing over me. I’m free from Cain, but not from danger. I’ve found my brother, but he’s a stranger wearing familiar eyes.
I’ve learned more about vampires in one day than in all the years I’ve spent hunting them, but the knowledge brings more questions than answers. Potions. Nobles. Clans. Siphoners. Where do I even start?
The bathroom calls to me, promising hot water and an opportunity to wash away the remnants of that hideous underground prison. I place the pendant on the basin—unsure what to do with it—and strip off the guard’s uniform, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, before stepping under the shower’s steaming spray. Only then, with water masking any sound I might make, do I allow myself a moment of weakness. Silent tears mix with the shower’s flow as I scrub my skin raw, trying to erase the memory of Cain’s touch.
When I emerge, wrapped in a plush robe, I find a tray of food on the bedside table that wasn’t there before. Someone entered while I was showering, a reminder that privacy is an illusion here.
The meal is simple but nourishing: bread, cheese, cured meat, and a glass of what appears to be wine. I eat mechanically, my body demanding sustenance even as my mind races.
When I finish, exhaustion hits me like a punch. The bed beckons, its soft mattress and cool sheets promising oblivion, however temporary. I should stay awake, plan my next move, figure out a way to contact Redmoore or escape this new prison. But my eyelids grow heavy, and the thought of sleep becomes irresistible.
I check the lock on the door one last time before sliding beneath the covers. As consciousness slips away, one specific thought follows me into darkness: I’ve traded one captor for another, and I still don’t know which is worse. This may seembetter in every way possible, but I have learned to distrust beautiful visions, especially when they come from dangerous men.
CHAPTER 20
DREAMS COME SWIFTLY,vivid and disjointed.
Pursued by Whiteshades with distorted faces and sharp teeth, I turn corner after corner, the walls constantly shifting, trapping me in a labyrinth that breathes.
Next, I’m standing in a circle of fire while Cain approaches, his cruel smile revealing fangs dripping with dark ichor. I feel helpless as Max’s eyes turn vacant, his hand rising to strike me down. I can’t move. I can’t even scream.
The scene shifts abruptly, and I’m a child again, sitting curled up on my father’s knee as he tells me stories of my mother. His voice is warm, filled with love and loss in equal measure.
“She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen,” he says, his eyes distant with memory. “Hair like snow, eyes that held stars. When she looked at me, I felt seen for the first time in my life.”
“Why did she leave us?” my younger self asks, the eternal question that haunted my childhood.
His arms tighten around me. “To protect us, little bird. Sometimes love means making impossible choices.” But I see the pain in his eyes. He isn’t telling the truth. He doesn’t know why she left either.
The dream fades, replaced by complete darkness.
A new scene forms: I’m standing in a grand hall lit by candlelight, the walls lined with mirrors that don’t reflect me. I see the Ravens in them, all watching me from across the room, their faces unreadable.
