Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Gregor’s gaze lands on me again. I whimper, faintly writhing as my body desperately tries to find a way to ease the pain.
“No, you’ve had your chance.” Gregor’s eyes narrow on Whitbine, then he turns to Valen. “Take your spoils. Return her to me once she’s broken. I’ll take my time with her then. You will ravage her mind, but keep her in good health. I want her to survive me as long as she can.” He smiles, his thin lips parting to show his yellowed fangs. “Whitbine,” he snaps.
“My lord!” Whitbine bows again.
“Inspect the prisoner weekly. Report progress to me.”
“Yes, my lord.” Whitbine shoots me a sideways look, triumph in his vicious eyes.
Valen, the monster, turns to me, his form blotting out everything else.
Blue eyes. A glassy, stormy lake, gray clouds overhead. I remember him. We were supposed to work together to find a cure. A sharp stabbing pain lances through my head when I think about it. About my work. I see faces—blue eyes, shaggy hair, a friendly smile, more—but they’re blurry. I know them.
Valen strides to me, his cold eyes taking me in with utter disdain.
“Get up,” he snarls.
The vampires closest to me back away, all of them pitiless ghouls. They’re afraid of him. Of Valen.
I try to push myself to my knees, but my left arm hangs limply at my side. It’s broken close to the elbow. Blood trickles along my cheek and drips onto the black stone.
With a grip like iron, Valen grabs my other arm and yanks me to my feet.
I scream involuntarily as he drags me away, my feet scraping along the floor as the vampires part for him. Some of them hiss at me, their fangs bared. My ruined arm drags the ground, and I can’t get a full breath. Black spots float in front of my eyes as we pass the impaled bodies. Valen drags me through the viscera and congealed blood, past severed and torn body parts, past organs ripped to shreds. His steps never falter as he bears me away to more torment.
Somewhere in the horror and pain, I pass out. Blessed oblivion. Silence. Night.
3
“Where did this one come from?” A voice echoes along a tunnel, miles away from me, only reaching me in hollow, booming sound. It’s cold here. I can’t move.
I can’t open my eyes. There’s something covering my face. It’s claustrophobic, panic rising in my chest, my throat. Where am I?
“Swept up with the rest near Capitol Hill. Trying to escape. Barely avoided the Specter’s blade, but we managed to scoop up a few for questioning.” A woman’s voice, soft and sweet. “It’s the president’s sister. One of the others identified her. She’s the one who was supposed to find the cure.”
“Well, well. High Lord Dragonis will be pleased we caught this little hare.”
“Nothing can please him now.” The woman’s voice goes cold.
“Even so. Ah, she’s awake. Perfect.” The man sighs. “Let’s see what we have.”
The face covering is ripped off, and light stings my eyes. I close them against the glare.
“My name is Whitbine.”
I can sense the man leaning over me, and I open my eyes just a little to see the shadow of his face.
“You and I are going to spend some time together, Georgia. I can admit, it won’t be pleasant. At least not for you.”
My vision clears somewhat. He’s young, his green eyes and pale skin setting off a warning in me. Vampire. The woman behind him moves into my field of vision. I strain against the cuff or chain at my throat to look at her. Long white hair, beautiful face.
“Do whatever it takes.” She stares at me. “When you find out what happened to Theo, come to me with the information. No one else. I want to be the one to tell High Lord Dragonis.”
“You think that will garner favor?” The man stands straight, one of his pale eyebrows rising.
“As I said, there is no favor to be had from the high lord. He’s …” She trails off, as if thinking better of assigning a descriptor. “We must find who’s responsible.” Her voice drops lower. “If it was someone from within our own ranks, we can’t let recriminations fall on us. Understand?”
“Yes, yes. Let me work.” Whitbine picks something up and presses it between my lips.
I try to spit it out, but my mouth fills with liquid. Sputtering and coughing, I expel some of it. But not all.
“Better.” He presses his cold palm to my forehead and smooths my hair down. “Now, you will tell me the truth. If you refuse, I will hurt you.” He holds up a knife. “It’s simple.”
I strain against the table, trying to free myself from the bindings at my wrists and ankles. I get nowhere. I’m tied tightly. Shackled in this cold room.
“Let’s begin.” He yanks up my shirt, exposing my stomach, then presses the knife to my skin. “Did you witness Theo Dragonis’s death?”