Chapter 40 #4
“Check your jacket pocket,” Benjamin said.
I paused, reaching in and pulling out a silver locket, immediately recognizing it as the one I’d given to Jacob years before. My legs felt weak.
Delacroix snapped his fingers and Benjamin jumped up like a well-trained dog and dropped to his knees beside Delacroix, who patted his head and scrunched his hair. Benjamin’s eyelids flickered in pleasure.
“Do you want to see your son again?” Delacroix asked.
I glared at him.
“The offer is about to be rescinded,” the count mumbled.
Dark futility ran through my veins as I walked out of the room and made my way back to the cell.
“Did you find her?” Marcus asked.
Kneeling beside Ted, I tilted his head and bit into his neck, feeling him tremble beneath me. Lost in the drink, I followed the pathway of another life. Marcus screamed but his cries sounded distant, as flashes of images flooded my senses. Ted’s breathing quickened and then became shallow.
I felt his heartbeat slow and then cease.
Marcus hacked through his wrist with a splinter of stone. Blood spurted. His spectacles tumbled off as he collapsed and I reached for his bleeding wrist and suckled, glimpsing his chaotic wavering thoughts.
I forgive you,” he conveyed. Now find your son.
Jolted out of my trance, I slowed. With my fangs buried into my wrist, I drew blood and shoved my arm against his lips. Marcus gasped for air, unable to resist the supernatural snare. His hips pumped the air as he rode out the bliss, the perfect pleasure betraying him.
Marcus lay dead in my arms.
I was startled when he shuddered, his mouth wide in a silent scream.
Reborn.
Realizing what I’d done, I pushed him off me. Marcus reached for the stone again and I kicked it out of his reach. His hair was now a striking titian and his green eyes were piercing. He pulled up his trouser leg to see his injury healed, the bruises gone.
He flew at me. “What is this?”
I shoved him back.
Marcus slammed against the wall. “There is no Sunaria, is there?”
“What?”
“You work for him?”
“No.” I let out a sob. “He has my son.” I leaned forward on my knees. “If Delacroix finds out that you’re still alive, my son is dead.”
Delacroix met me halfway down the corridor.
I tried to control my rage. “It’s done.”
Benjamin loomed nearby. He glanced at the cell door.
“Now tell me where my son is.”
Delacroix gave me an unpleasant grin.
“You have no intention of freeing me, do you?” I glanced at the prison. “They died for nothing.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Benjamin’s smug smile. “At least show me that loyalty is rewarded.” I tilted my head, staring at Benjamin.
Benjamin’s smile faded.
Delacroix’s eyes flickered, and with that small gesture of permission, I strolled over to Benjamin and peeled back his shirt collar. Benjamin reflected excitement intermingled with frightful anticipation. He whimpered when I bit into his flesh and, despite his struggles, I held him firmly.
Swallowing both Benjamin’s blood and his memories, I traced through his dark domain, the hidden images, suppressed by him, deep within.
And then I found her.
It wasn’t only Marcus who’d fled through the central tunnel last night, but hours later Sunaria had, too. Delacroix had entombed her in a coffin and then sealed off the exit with a wall of mud.
I let go of Benjamin and bolted down the stairs to the middle tunnel.
Sunaria, I’ll find you…can you hear me?
A sharp, all-consuming pain tore through me.
They flung me into the chair.
I assumed the stake sticking out of my side was the cause of my inability to move. Pain radiated down my right leg. I’d almost reached the end of the tunnel, but they’d gotten to me first. The torture chamber reeked of blood and fear – my own.
I realized that was how they forced Sunaria to remain in the coffin, using a similar stake. I cringed at the thought, and wondered if she, like me, couldn’t even talk.
Delacroix loomed over me.
Thinking of Sunaria being so close and knowing I couldn’t help her made me feel a pure terror like I’d never known.
Delacroix’s fingers lingered at the end of the spike and he muttered something I couldn’t understand. My gaze followed his over to a cabinet and I gulped back dread.
Get me out of this fucking chair!
He lifted out a large jar. A decapitated head – a grotesque sight – bobbed inside, the likeness to Delacroix uncanny. The same mop of black hair, pasty, mottled skin, eyelids closed, and a drooping mouth in a sorrowful expression. Delacroix peered into the jar.
The idea that Sunaria was suffering provoked an inner force within me and stopped me from passing out. Delacroix placed the jar down on top of the cabinet and reached inside with a maniacal look on his face.
With all my strength, I strained to move my right hand, but a weak twitch of my middle finger was all I could muster.
Delacroix carried the wet, grisly head back to me.
“You’re insane.”
He held it close, and droplets of fluid plopped onto my trouser leg. Cold soaked through to my thigh. The walls closed in.
“I was right,” he mumbled. “You’re the perfect build.”