Chapter Six
She was going to die here, wasn’t she?
What did one say to that?
I’d kill them for you. One by one.
Seraphina scoffed, then let heavy, tense silence fall between them.
The day stretched on. There was nothing to do but listen to the regular cries and screams of the other prisoners, and shiver as the wind picked up, sending droplets of freezing rain through the barred window high above.
The old man in the cell next to theirs started praying, and for a while, Seraphina listened to the cadence of his voice.
She tried not to think too much. Thinking only made her feel more miserable.
But with nothing else to do, her mind carried her back to the past no matter how hard she resisted.
It was impossible to focus on the present, when the present was a freezing hell, or think about the future when, with every passing hour, she became more convinced she didn’t have one.
She was going to die here, wasn’t she? As long as the guards were on Hartmann’s side, they would never tell the sergeant what was happening here, that she’d been put in a cell with a man, that his letter to the academy had been intercepted.
Even if the sergeant wrote another letter, Hartmann would take care of it.
Who could she convince to send word to Headmaster Wolff at Kr?henstein?
“Does the sergeant ever visit the prison?” she asked Rune.
“No. There was one time, when a man hanged himself, and the sergeant came to investigate and see if the guards had overlooked something. It turned out he’d ripped his blanket into strips, twisted them into a rope, and somehow managed to move the heavy cot under the window.
He was a tall man, I heard, otherwise he wouldn’t have reached the bars to tie the rope around. ”
“Jesus.”
“But that was the only time the sergeant came.”
“Damn it.”
So, that wasn’t an option. She was stuck, waiting for her trial, but trials took a long time.
What if she escaped? The second the thought came to her, she huffed and shook her head.
Only one week in prison, and she was already entertaining ridiculous thoughts.
How was she going to survive a month? The winter?
She got up and started pacing her side of the cell. She heard Rune gasp at her sudden movement.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “My back is still to you.”
She heard him swallow hard. “And mine to you.”
This went on for a while. The old man stopped praying. From the way he was wheezing, Seraphina knew he’d fallen asleep. He always wheezed in his sleep, sometimes woke up coughing violently.
She focused her attention on each and every sound the prison made, which kept her from thinking about Saint Vivia’s Convent for a few minutes, about how much she missed Briar and how much she must’ve disappointed everyone when she’d left.
What hurt most was that even if, by some insane miracle, she accomplished what she’d set out to do, she couldn’t return there.
The sisters would never allow her back. She’d had a family – more real than her own family in London – and she’d made sure they’d never want to have anything to do with her again.
Because Seraphina had done more than run away from Saint Vivia’s. She’d stolen something, and they’d never forgive her for it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping. She stopped and strained to understand what it meant. Rune was tapping on the floor, his fingers moving all at once, at first in a slow pattern, then a quicker one. It was precise, as if he was following a rhythm in his head.
“What are you doing?”
He stopped abruptly. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. But what are you doing?”
“Sometimes my fingers move on their own.”
She wanted to ask something else, but the corridor erupted in the usual chaos of the guards’ rounds.
Seraphina pressed herself against the wall, facing it.
She knew that trying to appeal to them again was futile, and it was better to make herself small, so they’d leave her alone.
Across the cell, she heard Rune do the same, curling up in a corner, on the straw that had started to smell of rot.
“Seraphina Bell, you’re a popular girl,” Fischer said as he banged the wooden club against the cell’s door.
She heard the key turn in the lock, then someone reached inside and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled so hard that she lost her balance.
“Come on, now, don’t be difficult.” Koch’s voice.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her out into the corridor, then shoved her into the empty cell that had been hers.
She let out a breath of relief. Finally, they’d come to their senses.
Or maybe the sergeant had heard something and reminded them how completely inappropriate it was to put a woman in a cell with a man.
Her relief was short lived, because a familiar voice entered her space, along with the stink of garlic and beer.
“The magistrate is expediting your case,” Hartmann said. “He recognized your cursed name.”
Seraphina’s lips trembled, but she couldn’t hold back.
“Cursed? I was one of the most important people in the resistance. The best shard technician the academy had. Of course, he recognized my name.”
Hartmann spat at her. His saliva hit her in the cheek.
“Important? You weren’t important. You were that weaver’s bitch.
He kept you around because he liked your pretty cunt.
Shard technicians are as common as beggars in the market square.
Trust me, no one at Kr?henstein missed you or even asked about you when you disappeared.
They asked about Matteo da Siena, looked for him for months.
Some haven’t given up hope to this day. But you? You’re no one.”
She grinned. “That’s clearly not true since the magistrate is expediting my case.”
She should’ve known better than to egg him on.
He closed the space between them and grabbed her by the hair, twisting it around his fist as he pulled her head back.
With his other hand, he removed the scarf covering her face.
She tried to shy away from him, turn her head, but he only tightened his grip.
“Look at you,” he said in a low voice that was almost a growl. “You’re the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you think Matteo would look at you now?”
“Matteo is dead,” she said through gritted teeth. “And it’s your fault.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t kill him.”
“You ran, and that killed him. You’re a coward.”
He made a humming sound in his throat, as if he were considering her words.
“Is that what you’re going to tell the magistrate? That I ran when we were ambushed, and that’s why the master weaver is dead?”
“It’s the truth. You should’ve stayed, fought–”
“And died?”
“Yes. It was your job.”
He released her harshly and pushed her against the back wall. She slipped on the wet straw and fell sideways, unable to regain her balance. She let out a yelp when her shoulder collided with the edge of the cot.
“What are you doing to her?” Rune banged with his fists against the connecting wall. “Leave her alone!”
Hartmann kicked Seraphina in the thigh. She whimpered in pain, trying to pull herself to a standing position. He kicked her again, in the hip, then placed his boot on her shin and pressed.
Hearing her cry out, Rune lunged at his cell door, now locked. The bars rattled and the walls shook.
“Don’t touch her,” he yelled. “Don’t you dare. I’ll kill you with my own hands.”
“Stand back, creature.” Fischer banged the club against the bars.
Rune wasn’t impressed. Seraphina could hear him rattling the cell door so hard that she was certain he might actually pull it from its hinges.
“Stop it.” Fischer sounded agitated. “Don’t make me teach you a lesson.”
Hartmann leaned in, and Seraphina scratched his face, aiming for his eyes. He caught her wrists and squeezed them painfully.
“You’ll tell none of that to the magistrate,” he said.
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth is you’re going to die in here.”
“Return her to me,” Rune yelled again, and his deep voice sounded like thunder. “If you hurt her, I will–”
“You will what?” Hartmann pushed her away, straightened up and banged his fist on the wall. “You’ve had her for five days, creature. I expected more from you.”
“She’s mine,” Rune said, lowering his voice to a snarl. He was still pushing and pulling at his cell door. “You gave her to me, so she’s mine.”
“I gave her to you, so you’d fulfill your filthy, bloody fantasies with her and do me a favor. But here she is, in one piece, and it looks like I have to take care of everything myself.”
Rune let out a raw, animalistic grunt. Seraphina heard a creak, like metal groaning under pressure.
“Stand back from the door,” Fischer said as he hit it again with the club.
Koch had found a club himself and joined Fischer. Prisoners screamed and wailed, cursed and banged around in their own cells.
“She’s mine,” Rune yelled. Then, in a lower, measured tone: “I like to get to know my women first.”
Seraphina felt like she was going to be sick. From the hip down, she was in pain. Hartmann’s boot had done a number on her. But hearing Rune talk about her like that was worse than a few kicks.
Hartmann laughed, a booming sound that joined the madness of the prison.
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he said before yanking Seraphina to her feet and pushing her out into the corridor. “Open,” he ordered the two watchmen.
Rune took a few steps back, and his cell was unlocked. Seraphina was pushed in harshly and landed in a heap on the floor, covering her head with her arms. Hartmann had taken her scarf and hadn’t given it back. She was fully exposed.
She heard Rune lunge at them. There was the distinctive crack of a bone, and a wail that didn’t sound manly at all.
“You fucker,” Fischer said in a high-pitched voice.
Then they descended on him with clubs, fists, and feet, and Rune fought with all his might, but she knew he was outnumbered and completely overwhelmed.
Not knowing what to do, she crawled away from the commotion, but someone grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, then she felt the tip of a bayonet press between her shoulder blades.
“One more move, and she bleeds.” Hartmann, of course.
Rune stopped at once. She heard him fall to his knees. She didn’t turn toward him, but he probably had his hands up.
Fischer was whining pathetically. “How is he so strong? Fuck. Fuck!”
“Teach him that lesson you promised,” Hartmann said. The blade pierced her skin. “Don’t resist,” he told Rune, “Or I’ll show you you’re not the only one who knows exactly how to treat a whore.”
Seraphina lay there, in utter horror, and listened to them beat Rune to a pulp.
He barely made a sound, a grunt or a whimper escaping him here and there.
He took it stoically, not moving a muscle, not even trying to defend himself.
Koch and Fischer only stopped when they were too tired.
She could hear them breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating with exertion.
“I’ve returned her to you, like you asked,” Hartmann said.
He removed the bayonet and stepped out of the cell.
The lock fell into place. “Don’t disappoint me again, creature.
Fuck her, cut her, do what you want with her.
If I come back here in a few days and she’s still in one piece, her guts not around her fucking throat, I’ll give her to someone else.
Plenty of hungry men in these cells who won’t refuse such a gift. ”
Seraphina covered her mouth with her hand. Hartmann really wanted her dead, but he wasn’t going to do it himself. She heard Rune grunt, and it sounded like approval. A promise.
“Good. When the magistrate gets around to your case, maybe I’ll put in a good word,” Harmann said, chuckling. “Say you’re a well-behaved prisoner, know how to follow orders.”
They left, Koch and Fischer limping down the corridor.
It seemed like Rune had gotten them good before they’d made him submit to their torture by threatening her life.
Even after the guards left, the clamor didn’t stop, the prisoners too worked up to settle down.
Some of them had heard Hartmann’s suggestion that he’d give her to someone else, and were screaming:
“Give her to me!”
“I’ll take care of her. I’ll take care of her good.”
Seraphina pushed herself up and retched. Nothing came out, just a string of saliva. She heard Rune move behind her, and she crawled toward the wall, pushing herself flat against it.
“Don’t,” she said, her heart fluttering like a trapped animal.
“I haven’t looked at your face, I promise. I have my back to you.”
“Don’t... kill me.”
He let out a ragged sigh.
“You like to get to know your women. Do you know me well enough now? Will you–”
“No! Jesus Christ, Seraphina! I won’t touch you! I’ve never touched a woman in my life. Ever. Let alone hurt one.”
“What–”
“I lied! I told him what he wanted to hear so he’d leave you alone. And I lied about the dead woman. I didn’t kill her. Didn’t... eviscerate her. I found her in an alley like that and said that I did.”
“What the fuck?”
Seraphina’s shoulders shook with sobs, and she didn’t know whether it was from relief, or because she was going mad. She sobbed for a minute, then the dry crying turned into an unhinged laugh.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
Did this mean she was safe? If he was telling the truth – and it sounded like he was – then she’d been safe with him all along.