Chapter 23 #2
Kitty was hardest to look at. She had been very badly beaten.
Her wig, makeup, and nails were gone; she was forced into a man’s appearance.
I had no doubt one or more of the human guards did this to her.
HDF had no understanding or tolerance for transgender.
Though Kitty held up her chin with strength, I could see how much it broke her.
The faraway look in her eyes. They took the base of who she was as a human being, forcing her into a role she didn’t fit because it made them feel better.
My anger rose.
Latching onto Ash’s eyes, he instantly calmed me. He held the same relief in his mossy green irises at seeing me. The same question in his expression I was asking back.
Where was Warwick?
Lukas went toward the blue, where Warwick technically should have been, but wasn’t.
Nor was Andris or Killian.
My stomach twisted with what it meant.
Killian and Andris might be being tortured for information or because they are Istvan’s enemy. Warwick because of who he was. What better way to make yourself a legend than by taking down the very one that even humans revered?
As I walked to the human section, a man stepped in front of me, his beefy arms folded over, a sneer on his face. “I’ve dreamed of this day.”
Shit.
My stomach knotted at seeing Joska in front of me, the HDF soldier Birdie and I fought when he, Samu, and Elek found us in the alley.
The guy who was already an extremist now had his head buzzed, an HDF symbol tattooed on his neck, and his body was even more buff, like he was taking enhancer drugs.
Rage danced in his eyes like a living thing, his already aggressive nature exploding from his skin, clogging the air like bad cologne.
“You will pay for Elek’s death. I will make sure you are punished severely for what you did.” He stepped closer to me, his body stiff as violence emanated from him. “One step, one word out of line, and I might forgo Markos’ order not to kill you,” he spat.
Joska was just another bully on my list who wanted to “put me in my place,” hating that I had already put him in his.
Though it was this moment, looking into his eyes, I not only knew he was on the pills, but whatever barriers and spells Killian had put in place to block magic didn’t block the effects of the pills.
That meant every human guard here was possibly far more powerful than the fae.
The wards blocked organic magic. The human science experiments were a processed and manufactured substance, Killian’s spells not recognizing it.
Istvan had his perfect world down here. Humans finally held more power.
“Get to your seat, bitch.” Joska grabbed my arm, throwing me against the table, my already bruised ribs cracking against it. Biting on my lip to keep from crying out, I slipped onto a bench, Rosie settling in next to me.
“Are you okay?” she muttered.
Nodding, I peered around, noticing the two tables with humans were a mix of women and men from Kitty’s, a few from Sarkis’ army, and some I didn’t know. There weren’t a lot of us.
A table over, there were four older people in gray, which caught my attention. My mouth parted in complete shock, staring at the haggard and beaten faces.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
No matter how dirty and gaunt they looked, I would recognize them anywhere.
Albert and Nora Molnár. Hanna’s parents. The shock at seeing them pulled to my feet, my eyes locked on them, questions barreling up to my tongue.
Nora glanced over, her eyes widening at me, then subtly shook her head, petrified. But not of me.
“Sit the fuck down!” A club whacked across the back of my legs, producing a groan from my lips, dropping me back down.
“Did we tell you could move?” Joska grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.
“You are a disgusting traitor, exactly like them. Unless you want to be flogged as morning entertainment, I suggest you sit there until we tell you to move.” He rammed my head forward, hitting it against the table.
Holding back the rage and emotion, I lifted my gaze back to them. Nora looked pained, but with one whisper from her husband, her focus went to the table, not looking back at me.
What the hell were they doing here? They were Léopold elite. Nora and Rebeka were best friends. They were respected and known, coming from old money, though Albert also made a substantial fortune by running factories in the ninth district.
My mind clicked.
Holy shit.
Blinking, a theory rolled into my head. Albert owned the very factory torturing fae and trying to produce the next superhuman drug under the factory floor.
Was that the reason he was here? Did he not approve?
Though I didn’t see Albert caring about fae enough to put him in here. I was missing something.
Seeing the other couple, Hans and Petra, next to them was still shocking, but slightly less, only because they were very liberal in their beliefs.
Istvan complained about them all the time; they were constantly a thorn in his side about politics and his leadership.
But they had a disgusting amount of money, so of course, they were accepted into the top crust of Léopold. I knew Istvan always hated them.
My stomach swayed at seeing the group, really understanding how far things had advanced in a short time and the autocrat ideals Istvan was pushing forward.
There was no line Istvan wouldn’t cross if he needed to.
He would even imprison his own people, probably taking them in the middle of the night, no one seeing anything or knowing what happened to them.
But you knew without a word it could happen to you if you didn’t do everything by the book and agree with Istvan completely.
Killian’s “death” had given Istvan enough ego and power to become a total dictator. Having the man in his prison must have made him feel like a king. If Istvan ever got the nectar, we would be doomed. He would become a god. No one could stop him or challenge him.
“New fishes, listen up!” Zion strolled in, his voice booming. “Rule for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You behave, you get fed. You don’t, you starve . . . and so does everyone in your group. Easy as that.”
They were turning species against each other, and they would have us killing our own if one bad seed took away food for the rest. I understood what it came down to in here. It wasn’t money or jewelry. It was a scrap of toast, clean water, soap, a blanket.
“So better be good little boys and girls,” he mocked.
The doors to the back kitchen area opened, and a dozen people brought out large pots with ladles. Paper bowls were set down next to the pots, but that was it. No utensils, no coffee, not even water.
“Oh, yummy.” Zion licked his lips mockingly.
“I don’t even see one floating cockroach in there this morning.
Lucky day!” He clapped his hands together, talking at us like we were two years old.
“Okay, we start with humans today. You go first. We see anyone trying to jump line, and you all return to your seats with no breakfast.”
Nora, Albert, Hans, and Petra got up, obediently walking to the counter. I made sure I was right behind them.
“What are you doing here?” I pressed as close I could to Nora, her normally golden-blonde hair like her daughters was filthy and fizzy, tied into a low bun.
All the makeup, jewelry, and glamorous clothes were stripped away, making them seem even more out of place.
Rich people held themselves differently, not comfortable in cheap fabrics, filth, and being around people lower than their own social standing, where others wore it like a second skin.
You could smell their fear and insincerity like perfume.
Her spine stiffened, her head slightly turning, her head shaking again.
“Istvan put you in here?” I muttered so low, my eyes darting to the guards.
She didn’t respond for a long time, inching closer to the food. Finally, I saw her head dip yes.
“Why?”
No response.
“How is he going to explain your absence to Hanna?”
“Hanna?” Nora jerked her head around, her eyes wide.
“I better not hear talking.” Joska strolled up and down our line.
They were monitoring any communication in communal areas.
Was it messed up to say at least in Halálház we had the freedom to talk and sit where we wanted?
Halálház had a wildness to it, fights, brawls between groups or with guards, but in a way, the guards let the inmates control and monitor themselves.
Compared to this, that was freedom within the shackles.
This was far worse. Fear escalated in silence.
It hung around your neck like a rope and kept the tension at an unbearable level.
There was no humanity. No moment you could forget where you were.
And no coffee.
Nora’s head went forward. She didn’t say anything until we both were getting a single scoop of watery goop.
“Is she alive and okay?” Nora whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“Yes.”
Her shoulders lowered; her whole body eased with relief. “Thank you,” she uttered, her blue eyes meeting mine briefly with gratitude.
“She’s back in HDF,” I added.
Nora’s relief flickered from her face, her eyes watering. “Oh gods. You don’t know how bad it’s gotten there. What has happened to—”
“What the hell are you stopping for? Move!” Joska shouted.
Nora flinched, her head lowering, and skittered back to her table.
What was she going to say? How bad was it there? What was happening in Léopold?
Turning with my paper bowl of milky water with a few grains of something in it, questions circling my mind when movement came from the doorway.
I stopped in place. Boyd, along with four other guards, walked Killian in like a dog.
A gasp caught in my throat at seeing the fae lord.
His face was so black and blue I hardly recognized it.
One eye was closed shut, his lip split open in several places, a collar around his neck attached to a chain.
Rage turned over my stomach.
They dressed him in a yellow uniform but made sure it was ill-fitting to make him look like a fool.
Istvan wanted not to just tear Killian down, but change how he was viewed by his people.
To diminish the idea of him being larger than life, the grand lord you bowed to.
This man appeared weak and helpless. A dog on a leash.
Boyd, who used to work for him, was now happily rejoicing in his demise, coiling my gut more, another speculation working in my brain.
Killian kept his chin high, every breath a struggle, but he held himself like the proud man I knew.
Boyd roughly shoved him down onto a lone table next to the fae.
“Guess what, your highness? You’re gonna have to eat, shit, and work with the rest of the low-breed common folk.
” Boyd got close to his face, but Killian did not waver.
Not responding to the turncoat. “You are nothing special here. No magic, no title. No amount of money can save you here. Oh, right, you don’t have any now.
” A sneer spread over Boyd’s ugly mouth.
A guard unlocked the chain but left the metal collar around his neck. I had a good idea it was probably made of pure iron, by the way Killian was fighting to keep his body from slumping. Another way to declaw the king.
“If I see one of you sit with him, help him, or even look at him,” Boyd yelled, speaking mainly to his fae kin.
“You won’t eat for a week, and your dear liege will spend a month in the hole.
He will be separate from his subjects, exactly as he likes it.
” Boyd rubbed his hands together. “How does it feel, Killian, to be locked in the very creation you made to torture and kill people? To know there is no way out because you made sure of it?”
The one eye I could see open of Killian’s burned into Boyd. Killian’s fury was subtle compared to someone like Warwick, but I knew it could be just as lethal. He would wait for his chance, staying still until his victim was close enough before striking.
At least, I hoped. I knew better than anyone how this place could change you. Being locked in the hole for even a day could break the strongest man, making him compliant with anything.