Chapter Eight Damien
Chapter Eight
Damien
I watched from across the street as they hauled Wren’s unmoving body from a carriage and into the main guard station. Her fine dress, which once might’ve been a luminous yellow, was torn and muddied, and filth streaked her cheeks and brow.
The soldier carrying her had scooped her limp body into his arms, her head lolling back at an awkward angle. My teeth ground together at the way he handled her so roughly, not caring when he readjusted her, his big hands yanking and pulling without consideration. She’d either fainted or…
If she’d died, they wouldn’t have taken her body here.
This was where all the wickedness of the officers came out to play, their inner monsters impatient to interrogate their victims. If they believed Wren was the woman involved in Dusk’s disappearance, they wouldn’t hesitate to allow those monsters free rein.
I was familiar with how the guards treated their…suspects.
Caught once at age ten, they’d beaten me to a pulp in one of those dingy cells. Cells that I wouldn’t even put a rat inside. After a week, they shoved me out onto the streets, hungrier than before I stole a peach from a local vendor. Back then I hadn’t been as smooth. I learned quickly after that.
What would they do to the ward princess if they believed she’d been involved in Dusk’s disappearance? Would her father help? Surely he would. I bet he was journeying here now.
I slunk farther into the alley between a bakery and a florist, using the shadows to hide while I lost sight of Wren and the bastard guards carrying her up the steep steps leading to the square brick station.
Logically, I should go. Return to the Void and go about my own damn business. Wren wasn’t mine to worry about. I’d only stolen from her.
Then why weren’t my feet moving?
Why did the idea of turning my back feel akin to betrayal? Loyalty was everything where I came from, but I owed her nothing.
I cursed my idiocy. Cursed and kicked the stone wall next to me.
My secondhand boots were too thin, so I cursed again when sharp pain radiated up my calf.
Unless you were kin or had made a vow, everyone in the Void understood the golden rule: Every man and woman for themselves if they got caught.
Especially thieves or criminals like myself.
The one time I put myself on the line for someone, it had been for Ruby, and that had been an accident.
We might’ve known each other since we were children, but after that incident, she deemed me her friend, not knowing that my attacking the lawman cornering her had to do with someone paying me to rough up the man, who owed a gambling debt.
I’d earned coin and a sarcastic shadow for the rest of my days.
Running my hand through my hair, I once again surveyed the building. Took in the cold bricks and repressed the unease clawing at my stomach. My thoughts slipped to the young boy I’d been, bruised and bloodied and frightened. Then it went to her.
Shite. I planned to do something very, very stupid.
Sneaking into the main guard station had been easy. No one was idiotic enough to break into hell—aside from me. Getting out might prove difficult, mainly if my mirror decided to play games.
Unlocking the compact, I slipped it into my jacket pocket, the usual tingle of magic buzzing through my system.
Marching up the stairs, I strayed to the edges, avoiding the severe-looking guards, who probably needed a night of debauchery and drink, judging by their inability to show an ounce of human emotion.
They were similar to the windup toy soldiers children played with.
When the double doors opened and a handful of patrolmen passed through, I slid in behind, careful to conceal the sound of my breathing.
Why are you doing this?
It was the tenth time I’d asked myself that same question.
From experience, I remembered that they kept the “interrogation” rooms in the basement. Below that existed a level I shivered to recall. The cells. If she’d been brought to the cells, Wren was royally screwed.
“Fucking brat made me carry her the entire way. I bet she was awake the whole time.”
I turned to the left, finding a muscular guard leaning on the marble countertop placed at the center of the open room.
He loomed over a seated man on the other side, whose eyes were wide with interest at the latest scandal.
The mouthy guard set down a full cup of tea, steam rising from the top as he groused.
“I bet Hayes will be here any second and spring the spoiled bitch before we get the chance to ask questions.”
The hairs on my arms rose and my feet slowed to a halt. I stood before the stairwell door, prepared to go down to the basement undetected. But his words…
I might not like Wren Hayes, but his insult grated on me. No, it pissed me off. I could tell by the way my blood boiled, how my cheeks heated with fire. The reaction hadn’t been expected, but it happened regardless.
Only I could insult Wren Hayes. She was mine to tease and provoke. Had been the moment she tackled me and stabbed me with a letter opener. Not that I would ever call her such a vile word. That was beneath me. I’d needle her with a little more creativity.
Taking advantage of my gift and praying its power held, I strode over to the bastard of a guard and flicked a wrist—knocking his tea all over his uniform.
He shrieked out a curse before jerking back, his lips contorting in pain as the scalding liquid drenched him.
I beamed, my steps lighter as I sauntered away, leaving the asshole cursing and rubbing at his uniform in confusion. That would be the highlight of my day.
Back at the stairwell, I waited until the coast cleared before opening the door just enough to slip through.
I’d flickered a few times on the stairs, my mirror struggling to keep me hidden.
My breathing grew ragged for this reason, my palms slick as I locked the door behind me.
Hopefully, they hadn’t taken Wren to the cells; that level required a key, and not many guards possessed one.
The steps led down in a straight line, the gas lamps hanging on the brick walls doing little to light the gloomy space. One misstep and I’d be left with a broken bone. It took a minute to get to the bottom, the door to the basement shrouded in shadows.
I hated that I was here. Memories of my fucking childhood rushed back—of the sneering guards who loved to kick hungry children. They took pleasure in roughing me up when I was unable to defend myself.
If not for my magic and the picture of me in the locket, I would have run in the opposite direction by this point. That magic seemed to be settling now. The flickering ceased, and I froze before the entrance to the interrogation ward, relieved. It just needed to keep me safe awhile longer.
Placing my ear on the cold metal door, I listened for the telltale patter of boots.
A pair passed by, followed by the thudding of multiple boots, signaling a group of guards.
To my surprise, and luck, they didn’t open the door I currently leaned against. When everything went still, I chanced it all.
Like an idiot.
Pulling back on the handle, I peeked around the wooden frame, sighing when I found the hallway empty. Rows of locked doors, cracked tile, and sputtering lamps gave the basement an air of nearly tangible misery. I supposed that was the whole point; to intimidate and frighten.
Checking to make sure my pocket mirror continued to behave, I snuck down the hall, the buzz of magic growing stronger with each step.
I’d yet to experience anything like it—the flare of power that rushed into my veins the closer I ventured down the corridor.
Whatever was at play, it kept me safe, and I could question it when I wasn’t neck-deep in a vipers’ den.
Pausing every now and again by the doors, I listened for voices.
By the time I crossed the fourth door off my list, one down the corridor blasted open with a bang.
I shrank back, pressing my palms against the wall.
A middle-aged guard, one with five obnoxiously polished stars decorating his blue velvet cuffs, stormed out, his face a mottled red.
“She knows more than she’s letting on!” he barked at whoever stayed. I assumed Wren was present as well.
Now was my moment. As he screamed some more about the many ways they could “extract” information from her, I crept to the doorway and waited until he turned on a shiny heel and stormed away like a petulant child.
Before the door closed entirely, I stole into the dingy room, bursting with the hum of magic, my invisibility firmly in place.
Wren Hayes sat in a tarnished metal chair in front of a chipped desk, her vibrant turquoise eyes giving away nothing.
Even streaked in mud, she lifted her narrow chin, her hands placed delicately in her lap like a lady receiving tea service.
Fates, she was good. An actress if I’d ever seen one—and that knowledge set me on edge, the hairs at my nape rising to attention.
I expected her to be a good manipulator—all highborn leaders were, so of course, their offspring would be as well.
“Any other questions?” she asked as if bored, and only then did I realize we weren’t alone. Standing in the far corner, another guard walked into the light, his arms crossed tightly against his broad chest.
“I still don’t understand why you ran into the woods?” the second guard asked. “If you had just stayed there—”
“I already told you.” She sighed dramatically before chewing on her lip. My focus lingered there, watching as she released the delicate flesh with her teeth. “I was fearful for my life. I glimpsed the blood and believed an assassin might be nearby. I ran. My instincts kicked in. Simple as that.”