Chapter 17
Somewhere in the distance a whip cracked. The cruel snap ricocheted down the hallway followed by chains rattling and a thud.
Hannah cracked open an eye and tried to locate the source.
The hissing pop of leather lashing against flesh repeated.
A low moaning sob made her heart ache for the poor, suffering soul.
She slid farther back into the darkest corner of her cell, curled into a ball, and covered her ears.
If she kept her back pressed tight against the cold, hard wall, maybe she could disappear into the darkness.
At least this room smelled better than the first one they had thrown her into, and the only thing crawling on the floor was her.
The slab radiated the coldness and was black as an oil slick.
Or it appeared to be. Hard to tell with so little light.
The walls seemed to be stained in places.
She tried not to think about it. A faint ray of sunshine made it into the room through a single tiny window near the ceiling.
She hurt all over. From the cold. From rough handling and hard landings when they threw her.
She preferred not to think about what else would happen if she didn’t find a way out of here.
No sense letting her thoughts push her into hysteria.
Time to stop cowering and start thinking of an escape plan.
She rose and stretched to her tiptoes, trying to peer out the window.
Not really a window. More like a slit between the blocks.
No luck. She was entirely too short to reach it.
With a hand grazing along the wall, she felt her way through the dimness to the door.
Breath held, she pressed an ear to the crack between the hinges and listened.
Pathetic moans and high-pitched wails made her cringe.
The distinct clomp and drag of heavy boots made her step back. The stomping became louder, drawing closer. Her heart jumped to her throat when they scraped to a halt on the other side of her door. She backed into a corner and held her breath as keys rattled in the lock.
“Good. You be awake. Sloan tires of waiting and I damn sure ain’t gonna carry you to him.
Move your arse.” A repugnant man, covered in open sores and bearing a jagged scar that started at the top of his head, crossed his face, and continued down his double chins, stood scratching his enormous belly with the end of the keys dangling on a large iron ring.
She eyed the guard. With his stubby legs and labored gait, she bet she could outrun him easily. Problem was, where should she go once she got out of the cell?
“Don't even think about it, meat. I may be an ungainly sod, but I can zap your scrawny arse back in this cell so fast your head would snap off that spindly neck of yours. I may not have as much magic as your glorious Protector, but I gots me enough to keep the likes a you in line. So, keeps that in mind before you go getting stupid.” Using the keys to dig at his crotch, he swung the door open wider and jerked his head toward the hall. “Now come on. Sloan’s in a pissy mood and I ain’t taking no clubbing over the likes of you. ”
She cringed while trying to take shallow breaths through her mouth. The man’s stench rivaled his appearance. She slid by him and moved into the hallway, trying to note the surroundings. With no memory of how she had gotten here, this might be her only chance to figure a route out.
“That way.” He shoved her into a hall to the right, snickering as she slipped on the highly polished floor. “Kinda slickery, ain’t it? Yeah, Sloan likes the place kept spotless. Makes it easier to drag the bodies out that way.”
“Bodies of prisoners?” If she could keep him talking, maybe he would share something useful.
She fought against a wave of churning nausea.
The distinct smell of rotting flesh floated out of the hallway to her left.
Her gag reflex kicked in, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
She refused to give the guard the satisfaction of making her retch.
“Yeah, bodies.” With a glint in his eye, he leaned his sweating face close and shook the keys toward the doors lining the halls. “Every day when we hose out the cells, the slick floors make it easier to drag the bodies out to storage.”
“You have prisoners die every day?” She didn’t doubt that after all she heard while listening at the door.
“Sure.” He gave her a toothless smile then splattered her face with a wet belch that smelled like putrefied fish. “They die ’cause I gut’m.”
She had held out as long as she could. She projectile vomited all over the hall.
Head spinning, she stumbled to the wall and squatted before risking a black out and hitting the floor.
Eyes closed, she held her head in her hands.
This could not be happening. It had to be a nightmare, and she just needed to wake up.
None of this could be real. She just needed to wake up and it would all be over.
“Now look what you did!” the fiend hissed. “They’ll make me clean that gob up.”
The bolted door in front of them clattered open to reveal Mia’s hooded form.
“I thought I heard Corter’s lovely voice.
” After a glance at the splattered mess, she shook her head.
“This will not do. Corter, please clean this up. You know Sloan will not be pleased. I shall escort Hannah the rest of the way into the sitting room.”
“I’m gonna enjoy when it’s time to rip out your guts,” he said. “They promised I get to be the one to kill you.” He yanked Hannah up from the floor and shoved her into Mia’s arms.
Mia caught her, graced her with a cruel smile, then dug her nails deep into Hannah's upper arm. After brushing Hannah’s hair back from her face, she patted her cheek a little too hard. “There, there now. Pay no attention to Corter. He enjoys killing all our guests.”
Hannah yanked her arm free of Mia’s painful hold. “Somehow, I don’t find that very comforting.” The icy glint in the young woman’s eyes reminded her of a snake about to strike.
After a twitch of her narrow shoulder, Mia pushed back her hood and motioned for Hannah to follow the rest of the way.
“Each of us has a time to die, Guardian. Corter merely enjoys sending people on their way. I did not wish you to feel singled out because you are sacred. Once you have served your purpose, Corter will not enjoy your death any more than he enjoys the death of any other piece of meat.”
“When I have served my purpose?” Hannah repeated, retreating a few steps back as they walked. Maybe a way out existed through here. “What purpose?”
Mia turned and glared at her. She cast a glance at the large golden door up ahead, then turned back to Hannah. “You will learn your purpose soon enough. Your fate is sealed, Guardian. You might as well accept it. It will make things easier for all creatures concerned. Now, please follow me.”
“I don’t think so.” She took another step back, flexing her hands in case this turned into a fight.
A prisoner she might be, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy on them.
Especially since Mia had just revealed that they needed her for something and more likely than not, would not kill her until that something was accomplished.
“If you think I’m going to let you lead me like a lamb to slaughter, then think again.
I am not moving until you tell me everything. ”
“I will not tell you because Sloan will kill me if I do. I refuse to meet my death for one such as you.” Mia floated toward her, her eyes darkening into narrow slits as she edged ever closer.
Hannah resettled her stance and readied herself for Mia to make the first move. She knew next to nothing about fighting, but by jings, with her life hanging in the balance, she would learn fast.
Mia lifted her fist, opened it, and blew into Hannah’s face.
A choking green cloud covered Hannah, fouling all her senses.
Eyes watered, nostrils burned, her lungs clenched as though shutting down.
She dropped to all fours, clawing at her flaming throat.
As she kicked and writhed, everything got worse.
Blinded, she flailed and rolled back and forth.
Air. She needed precious air. Her lungs raged, burning as if on fire.
Mia raised her voice as she bent over Hannah. Her words dripped with cruelty. “Do not challenge me. If you feel you have learned your lesson, I will cleanse you of the poison. Are you ready to follow me down the hallway, pet?”
Hannah managed a weak jerk of her head, then bleated a cry of relief when Mia dusted her body with a pale yellow cloud.
After a shuddering gasp, she twitched into a trembling ball at Mia’s feet.
Before she got out of here, before she escaped, she would snap Mia’s neck.
Never much on revenge before, she would make allowances for Mia.
“Now follow me to Sloan like a good little Guardian.” Mia waited at the door.
Hannah wiped her face on her ragged sleeve and pushed up from the floor. Fury thundered with every beat of her heart, replacing the earlier icy terror. Where the devil was Taggart and the cavalry? A war needed to be waged and won.
She staggered down the hallway, eyes, nose, and throat still burning from the poison’s residue.
When she stumbled into an opulent sitting room, the garish purple, red, and gold velvets almost pushed her back out.
She cringed at the gaudiness of the chamber.
Sloan’s private decorator must have gotten the deal of a lifetime on velvet.
The place looked like a cross between a wild west whorehouse parlor and a velvet circus tent.
“I take it you do not appreciate fine décor?” a man observed from a crushed velvet settee beside a blazing hearth framed by a pair of golden gargoyles. He tapped his bejeweled chest with a fingernail painted blood red. “I am Sloan. Supreme ruler of Cair Orlandis and soon, all the realms.”