14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
T wo vampires, their oily hair slicked back, stripped Rowan of her concealed weapons and dragged her down the hallway. Despite her fear, she couldn’t help but stare at the Reaper, standing arrogantly at the entrance to his chambers. For someone with such immense power, he was surprisingly short in stature. His high cheekbones and sharp features exuded menace. In the flickering torchlight, his cold gray eyes studied her like a captured animal in a snare. She struggled with all her might to escape the grasp of his guards, but their hold on her remained unrelenting.
“Take her to the suite prepared for her,” the Reaper said, his voice icy and devoid of emotion. “Make sure she’s comfortable, and under no circumstances is she to be harmed. Am I clear?”
The two guards, one with long brown hair that cascaded down his broad shoulders and another whose eyes were a piercing shade of copper, nodded obediently. “Yes, Master,” they replied in eerie harmony.
“Remember, her allure for vampires is potent. Control yourselves.” The Reaper’s stare narrowed as he scrutinized his guards’ restrained hunger. Then his eyes focused on Rowan, causing a cold prickling sensation to snake down her spine. “I’ll be in to chat with you in a few minutes,” he said, giving her a dismissive wave.
As the guards dragged her down another corridor, her stomach sank, and her mind raced with questions. Why were the guards waiting in the Reaper’s chambers? How did he know to have a suite ready for me?
Then the answers clicked into place. The Reaper must have been anticipating their arrival, which could only mean one thing.
Someone betrayed us.
The taller guard leaned in close, letting out a low, animalistic moan, barely restrained by his master’s command. Rowan cringed as their hungry gazes crawled over her skin.
As they entered the opulent suite that was to serve as her prison, her eyes bulged at its extravagance. Gilded furniture gleamed in the soft light from the window. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and rich silk covered almost every surface.
“Enjoy your stay,” the brown-haired guard said with a smirk, locking the heavy door behind him. The sound of the bolt sliding into place was deafening in the cavernous room.
“Thank you ever so much,” Rowan yelled through the door. “I’ll be sure to send a lovely thank-you note for such gracious hospitality.” She slammed her fists against the door as she listened to the guards’ footsteps fade away.
Rowan strode to the nearest window, searching for a way out. The vibrant stained glass was a work of art. It depicted a hunting scene, with wolves tracking their prey under a full moon. She stared out the window, her breathing shaky as she looked down at the steep precipice. It was easily a drop of fifty feet or more down onto jagged rocks and harsh shrubbery below.
Even if she could exit this way, any attempt to climb down the unforgiving stone wall without equipment would certainly end catastrophically. A shiver ran through her at the thought of her body battered and broken against those rocks. If the Reaper didn’t kill her, trying to escape that way surely would.
But she wouldn’t allow herself to crumble under the weight of her predicament. Instead, she began to plan.
She frantically scanned the room. With each passing minute, her worry for Casimir’s safety grew, twisting her insides into knots. She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him, and the longer she was confined, and helpless, the more her anxiety consumed her.
Rowan, don’t give up!
She stiffened, startled by Casimir’s voice inside her head. It must have taken him immense effort to communicate with her telepathically from such a distance.
“Wait for me, Casimir,” she said to the empty room. “I won’t give up. ”
She refused to be a helpless maiden; instead, she would become the blade in the dark. She would rescue Casimir, even if it meant tearing down the castle stone by stone.
Time crawled by as she tried to formulate a plan. She paced the room, over and over, scanning for any crack or crevice. When the constant dull ache in her muscles turned into sharp stabbing sensations, she allowed herself a moment to sit on the plush bed. She sank into its deceptive comfort before she rose again, her instincts screaming that there had to be a weakness somewhere.
At the click of her door unlocking, she grabbed the nearest candelabra, ready to use it as a weapon.
The door swung open, and the Reaper strode into the suite, his cunning eyes scanning her from head to toe with an air of icy authority. His short stature didn’t detract from his menacing aura; he effortlessly commanded the room.
“Rowan,” he boomed.
Fighting back a shudder at the sound of her name on his lips, Rowan steeled herself. “Reaper,” she said pointedly, her voice steady despite the nerves churning her stomach.
A self-satisfied smile curled his lips. “Ahh. You’ve come to know my name already. I’m flattered. But you, my dear, may have the privilege of calling me by my given name. Eamon.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Rowan glared at him, hiding her shaking hands. She refused to display any signs of weakness. Never again would a man make her cower in fear. She kept her gaze steady, her grip on the candelabra firm. “Why are you doing this?”
“I should be asking you that question.” He leaned casually against the stone wall. “You’re the one who broke into my castle.”
Rowan opened her mouth to retort but quickly closed it again, considering her words. “But why imprison us? And why are you terrorizing the residents of Ashbourne?”
He laughed at her accusation, the sound bouncing off the vaulted ceiling. “I’m not terrorizing them. Their fear is just a natural response to an unknown future. I merely provide the catalyst for change.”
The Reaper moved closer, his boots clapping against the stone floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His face was unreadable as he offered her a thin-lipped smile.
“Overturning a system,” he continued. “A corrupt system of nobility and Brotherhood leadership that only caters to a fraction of the population while the rest of us are expected to be grateful for their scraps. Doesn’t it disgust you to see so many suffer while they sit in their golden towers with their ill-gotten gains, stuffing their faces with extravagant feasts, all while turning a blind eye to peasants starving at their feet?”
Rowan fell silent, the weight of a thousand thoughts crashing down on her all at once. She despised the Reaper with every fiber of her being. She despised his methods and his cruelty. But as much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of his views that resonated with her.
She too was dissatisfied with the world they lived in. She too had witnessed the blatant injustice that ruled their society. She too had dreamed of change.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to be,” he added, his voice softer. “I can tell from your expression that you see it too. The kingdom doesn’t have to be this way. If you willingly share your blood with me, I give you my word that I’ll release your companion. Let me take you under my wing and we can fight for a better world together.”
“I may agree with your sentiments, but not your methods,” Rowan said evenly.
“Perhaps not, but consider this.” The Reaper straightened and began to circle her in a slow rhythm, every footfall echoing around the cavernous room. “When I was mortal, I tried to create change through words alone. I wrote articles and gave speeches in the town square. I sought justice through diplomacy and debate.” His vivid silver eyes glazed over with memories of a past life. “But just as words can inspire, they can also incite fear,” he continued grimly. His eyes found hers again, and she could see a deep-seated rage simmering beneath their surface. “And those comfortably seated on their thrones of gold and power found themselves terrified that the truth laid bare had begun to stir the hearts of men and spark conversations about change.”
He stopped pacing then, standing before her, gazing at her intently, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“But my efforts were rewarded with violence. The Brotherhood was trying to gain a foothold in the kingdom at the time, and I was a thorn in their side, so they tried to murder me.” He gripped his tunic, pulling it down to reveal a pale, jagged scar at his neck. “Their Enforcers stabbed me in a dark alley. They left me for dead.” A fire lit behind his eyes as he released his collar and looked at Rowan. “But destiny had other plans for me. I was saved by an ancient being who granted me this gift of immortality, and now I know my purpose. That’s why I fight for change. Words failed me, but this . . . this they cannot ignore.”
The Reaper’s story hit Rowan like a splash of cold water. His was a ruthless quest for justice born of pain and betrayal, something she hadn’t expected from a vampire who seemed to luxuriate in violence and power. The revelation pushed her into a chasm of conflicting emotions, and her resolve wavered.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this . . .” Rowan’s brow creased as she spoke. “But I actually agree with you. What I don’t agree with is you causing pain and suffering for the very people you say you’re trying to save.”
“Rowan.” He stepped closer; close enough that she could see the sun’s dying light reflected in his eyes. “The Brotherhood wanted death for me, so I became Death himself. And now you see what I’ve become.” His face softened for an instant before turning back into a stony mask. “What they forced me to become. Now I turn members of the Brotherhood whenever they cross into my territory so I can prolong their torture and make them pay for what they’ve done.” He pressed his lips together. “But those fools keep sending more. The only way to bring real change to this kingdom is to tear it down completely and start anew. Join me, and your dream of a better world can finally be realized.”
He paused, his eyes boring into hers, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. But his next words sliced through her like a blade.
“If not . . .” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll just have to make things very . . . unpleasant for your companion.”
And there it was. The stark difference in their ideology laid bare. His threat of torturing Casimir jolted Rowan out of the trance his words had cast over her. She knew what Casimir would want her to do, and it gave her the determination she needed to stand up to the Reaper.
“I’d rather die than give you a drop of my blood, you filthy leech,” she hissed.
His smug grin faltered, and for a moment, Rowan savored the sight of surprise flickering in his cold gray eyes. Then he laughed without humor, his demeanor chilling the room even further as he invaded her personal space.
“You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But it’ll be broken eventually, and then you’ll see things my way.”
Her heart was a relentless battering ram against her ribcage, but she refused to let him see how terrified she was. Instead, she took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height, looking him squarely in the eyes. “Perhaps. But it won’t be today.”
He chuckled darkly, studying her. “Such bravado. It’s quite amusing. ”
Anger surged through her like fire through dry wood at his mocking tone. Rowan acted on pure impulse. Drawing on every ounce of courage left in her, she spat directly into his pompous face.
The room fell deadly silent as the Reaper wiped the spittle from his cheek, a stray strand of his carefully styled black hair falling into his eyes. His expression twisted into one of pure rage as he glowered at her. “You ungrateful, petulant child. I’ll make him pay for your actions.”
His wrath filled the room like a suffocating fog, but despite every instinct screaming at her to run or cower, Rowan didn’t flinch.
For a moment, she thought the Reaper would strike her. Instead, he stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind him with a forceful bang, the bolt clicking into place.