Chapter 53
CHRISTOPHER
This is the ninth circle of hell.
My eternal punishment, being shut in a metal tube that doubles as a cage. It’s spacious for an air duct but not spacious enough to find the capacity to pull air back into my lungs.
I can’t get out.
“I used to have these dreams.”
Calista’s voice echoes through the chamber, bouncing off metallic surfaces and slamming back into me.
“Dreams that made me think I could fly. Grow wings and soar through the sky, feel the brush of wind in my hair and the warmth of sunshine on my face.”
Sweat drips from the end of my nose and splatters on the surface beneath me.
“I would watch these kingdoms grow and thrive, rulers come into power until somebody was strong enough to take their place. Bad things would happen to good people and good things would happen to bad people. There was no sense of justice in my world.”
The red soles of her heels shift along the ground, a bright line forcing my body to follow.
“There was always a prince. A knight who would come charging in, fighting to save the princess waiting for him. She had nothing but a dwindling string of hope, watching man after man fall victim to the monster who guarded her.”
I listen to her tale, feeling Calista dragging my mind through the darkness. Forcing my body forward with words and tangled knots that distract me long enough to keep moving.
“The longer I watched, the more the story changed. The prince turned out to be a fraud, a tired man who wanted to go home after a long day of work. The girl was nothing more than a solitary object, an empty mannequin who could not save herself if she tried.”
“I watched this story unfold night after night, and throughout it all only one thing remained the same.” A small laugh escapes her, “The dragon.”
Metal grates seal the space around us, but suddenly I’m seeing a smear of ink. A vicious creature wrapped around Calista’s body, sinking its claws and teeth into her skin until monster and woman become one.
“No matter the challenge, no matter the number of men she slaughtered, at the end of the day the monster was always there. Willing to fight, ready to defend.”
A drop of sadness softens her tone, a quiet confession that has my heart sinking.
“The monster never got a happy ending. But I found myself wishing one day it would.”
It’s a hard truth to swallow, knowing this strong fucking woman sees nothing but darkness at the end of her tunnel. Realizing the creature she sees in the mirror shows only the blood on her hands and none of the good.
The joy she brings to my life just by being alive.
“Never been a fan of mannequins. Or princes, for that matter.”
Forcing the air back inside my lungs, I find myself willing to breath if it means I can lift Calista Drache back up off the ground.
“Happy endings don’t do it for me, either. Too simple, tied up with a bow and wrapped in some cheap paper. Give me a final clip with some fast cars and a bit of violence and I’m sold.”
“That does sound like your type of ending, Devil.”
I can’t see her face but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I know what I like, Miss Drache.”
And that’s you.
“We made it.”
A beam of light shutters past her face as the grate gets pushed to the side and a wave of fresh air hits us. Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of freedom, the metal gap waiting to drop us twelve feet into the room below.
“You’ve got the rope?”
I’m ready to launch myself out of this space but Calista’s level thoughts keep me on track.
Shifting uncomfortably, I pull at the superficial stitches holding the top layer of my dress pants together.
Silk material falls to the side as I tear at the seams, ripping off the excess material until my supplies are accessible.
“Ladies first.”
Calista takes the rope with a smirk, her eyes tracing the strips of fabric clinging to my legs.
“I remember those.”
“White Castle feels like a lifetime ago.” Passing her the rope, I watch her wrap it around her body and pass it back to me, “What did you do with all those rubies and crystals, anyways?”
“They were fake.”
Tugging the rope, Calista slowly starts to lower herself down, “Evelyn had the real ones switched out. Same with the dead body.”
“There’s no way that thing was fake.”
“Oh, it was real.” A malicious grin peeks up at me, “But it wasn’t the Evil Queen you were sharing a coffin with.”
I shudder at the memory, opting not to ask who the hell was in that casket.
Calista hits the ground with a soft thud and I quickly follow suit.
Staggering and wincing at the impact in my knees, I roll up the rope and take a look around.
“Uh, darling.” Confusion melds in my brain as I stare at the familiar setting, “Did we make a wrong turn?”
“Nope.”
Blonde hair tumbles down her bare back, the loose straps of her bright red dress hugging every modest curve. Spandex shorts peek out the bottom when she bends down to kick off her heels and toss them onto a rug I’m all-too familiar with.
“Welcome to the Dragon's bedroom, Devil.”
The unease in my gut increases by tenfold.
It’s an exact replica of Calista’s bedroom, the same silver dressings and dark furnishings decorating the room around us.
What the hell?
“Could we not have just walked in here?”
I turn around slowly, seeing the same setting I’ve seen before. The only difference is the solitary mirror standing opposite the queen-sized bed, otherwise it’s identical to the room I’ve slept in before.
Which is fucking creepy to think about.
“You need voice and facial recognition to enter Maleficent’s bedroom.” Heading straight for the closet, Calista doesn’t spare me a glance, “Exclusive access must be granted to enter her private quarters.”
Questions swirl along my tongue as I follow her, ducking past shelves of high heels and hangers overflowing with clothes. Calista pushes piles aside and dumps fabric onto the ground until a gap stands in the compartment before us.
The same compartment a little girl used to hide in.
“Darling.” Swallowing thickly, I watch her pry her nails beneath the frame, “Why have I seen all of this before?”
“Because I got tired of being the mannequin.” Calista doesn’t look at me when she swings the door open, “And there was only one monster I was allowed to take after.”
My stomach hollows out when the metallic surface of the vault comes into view. Built into the wall with a latch and electronic plate, it’s the kind of thing you would expect to see at the back of a bank.
Not a mother’s bedroom.
“Can you open it?”
“It’s not ideal, that’s for sure.” Kneeling on the ground, I check out the model number stamped along the bottom, “But I should have enough explosives to blow this thing open. I’ll need to crowbar the fuck out of these walls though.”
“Can’t you just tape a grenade to the outside?”
“This thing is bulletproof, fireproof, every kind of proof you can think of.” Tapping the grey frame, I glance up at her, “I’ll need to drill through the side so we can plant the explosives on the locking mechanism inside.”
She nods briskly, “Make it quick.”
My suit jacket falls to the floor.
Ripping the strips of Velcro from my legs, I lay them out on the floor. Carbide-tipped drill bits rattle around a clear case while the travel-sized drill is tucked neatly below it. Auto dialers, bypass modules, paper clips, metal lubricant and a borescope make up the rest of the pockets.
I’ve got everything except a fucking crowbar.
Grabbing the biggest screwdriver I can find, I start chipping away at the drywall surrounding the vault. It’s a slow, painful process that only gets worse with Calista breathing down my neck.
“Do you want to wait in the other room or something?”
Slamming the base of my palm into the handle, I feel the skin break as I wedge it deeper into the wall.
“You’re starting to stress me out.”
She sighs, crossing and uncrossing her arms.
“Move.”
“What-
The heel of her stiletto goes careening towards the side of my head. I duck just in time, watching her kick do a hell of a lot more damage than my screwdriver.
“That’s one way to do it.”
Brushing the debris aside, I stick my hand inside and feel along the side of the box.
“Christopher.”
“One second, darling.”
“Something’s wrong.”
“I just need to find...”
My words die off when a wire juts up beneath my fingers. I frown, tugging on the cord until it peeks its head out of the hole in the wall.
Calista sucks in a breath, her eyes glued to the hunk of plastic that’s dangling off the end of a deadly line. The blasting agent that’s linked directly to the sensor on the door.
It’s rigged to blow.