Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
I sensed Vasilios’s attention and glanced at him briefly. He was staring at me searchingly, and I knew he was wondering about the message I wanted to get to my parents and what it could be. I turned away from him and focused on the boat. By the time our shift was over, we hadn’t exchanged a single word with one another, and I was conflicted. One part of me knew I needed to start talking to Vasilios, worming my way into his trust and getting him to reveal all his secrets, but the other part didn’t want anything to do with him. I would have to fight that part if I wanted to complete my mission and go home.
At dinner, I sat with him and Sven at the same table we’d eaten breakfast. I still couldn’t bring myself to make conversation and instead ate silently while he and Sven spoke about subjects that seemed intentionally boring and mundane. I suspected they weren’t yet comfortable speaking candidly while I was listening.
Needing an escape and fresh air, I finished eating and went to the yard. The sun was still out, so more prisoners had gathered outdoors to catch the final few rays. Well, except for the vampires who slept soundly in their cells. It was weird having been up so early since I went to bed around four or five in the morning at home and woke close to midday. The prison seemed to operate on a more human schedule, probably because the vampires ruled while it was dark, so the others had to make the most of the daylight hours.
I took a moment to observe the yard, noting how different types congregated in different areas. The shapeshifters were over by the workout equipment, while the elves seemed fond of keeping busy, strolling in twos and threes. There were some benches where the more elderly prisoners sat alongside those who’d become blood donors. They were the ones who sat with vacant looks in their eyes, some vital part of them missing.
My entire being rebelled at the wrongness of it. I wanted to do something to help them, but they were already empty shells, and once you went past a certain point in blood-giving, there was no turning back.
A lone red maple tree stood tall and vibrant at the end of the yard, startling me because I hadn’t noticed it the first time I was there. It was the only living thing, the only bit of colour, in a space that was otherwise grey and washed out. The ground had the appearance of being walked on so much that everything just died and faded away. Nothing but dusty rubble remained.
I wondered about the tree, not only because of the strange dream I’d had about being pinned down and trapped by branches but also because it seemed like prime territory to sit in its shade, but no one appeared to have claimed it. The witches and warlocks mingled a small distance away, yet none went anywhere near the tree.
“Word is it’s cursed,” came a voice, and I turned to find Vasilios and Sven had come out to join me.
“Cursed?” I questioned, genuinely curious. Something hummed in me, a kind of recognition. There was a familiarity to that tree that felt odd, a pull to go and stand by it, place my hand against its bark.
“You’ve heard of the Tree of Life?” I nodded as Vasilios spoke. “Well, that is the Tree of Death. Every few months, they find a prisoner hanging from it, but no one has any idea where they get the rope.” A shudder trickled down my spine at the macabre mystery. I tried to brush it off. There must be a logical explanation.
“Aren’t there a bunch of serial killers in here?” I glanced at Sven. “Present company included.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I kill for a purpose, not for pleasure.”
I scoffed. “That makes it so much better. Anyway,” I went on, “my point is that it’s surely one of the prisoners doing the killings and making them look like suicides. Or, just as likely, the prisoners are getting the rope from somewhere and taking their own lives. This is a prison, after all, and sometimes people will make the ultimate sacrifice to escape.”
“It doesn’t matter how or why the deaths happen. Just know that nobody goes near that tree, and you should stay away from it, too,” Vasilios said, a warning in his eyes.
I was about to shoot a retort when a slim woman approached us. She had short, silky black hair and obsidian eyes. I’d never encountered someone so intimidating yet delicately beautiful at the same time. A demon, definitely a demon.
Her attention ran over my grubby appearance before instantly dismissing me and setting her eyes on Vasilios. I watched as she drank him in, her scorching hot gaze practically glowing as she admired his horns. Her attention traced along his facial scar and close-cropped hair before returning to his horns. They must’ve been quite the desirable attribute within the demon world. I’d never seen horns like the ones Vasilios and Sven had, not even on the demons who lived in Tribane. Theirs were different, slightly more majestic somehow, which was probably what made them so attractive to the woman. She hadn’t spoken yet, but I could tell from her body language that she fancied the pants off Vasilios. Perhaps Sven, too.