Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
A Japanese man, Shiratori Yoshie, broke out of prison four times: once by picking a lock with wire from a washroom bucket, once by methodically loosening a ceiling vent over the course of a year, once by dislocating his shoulder and slipping through the food slot, and once by digging a tunnel with a spoon.
Most escape attempts never get off the ground, and a good number of the prisoners that succeed are immediately captured or killed. You can have the most airtight plan ever, but if you can’t think on your feet, you’re finished before you even begin.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp.
Ezra tilts his head and gives me a crooked grin. “Rescuing you. For the second time, I might add.”
I practically leap out of the cell and throw my arms around him.
He pats my back awkwardly. “You know, you really undersold this place. Stuff of nightmares, abyssal void, shroud of evil. Wish you’d told me about it sooner.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone, New Guy,” I say as I disentangle myself from him. “How did you even get here?”
“CJ brought me.”
“Yeah, I’m going to need more than that.”
There’s movement down the hall. Ezra grabs my arm and drags me into a shadow.
There’s a slight tremor in his hand, and I realize he’s not as unaffected by the horror of this place as he seems. We listen for a moment.
When nothing appears, Ezra whispers, “When Poppy told us what happened, CJ went to their family. Said they needed to get into Tartarus—”
“Wait, wait.” My stomach drops. “CJ went back to the Phantoms?”
They hate their family. Hate them so much, they won’t even talk about it.
“How did you convince them to do that?” I can barely get the question out.
Ezra scrunches his nose and shrugs. “It was their idea.” It’s clear he doesn’t realize the enormity of this. “They knew if they went back, they could make a deal to get into Tartarus and bring the limen stone with them.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“What kind of deal?”
He makes a face. “I think they have to do some contract work or something.”
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
Look, I’ve always wanted CJ to use their powers. I mean, come on. If I had magic, I’d use it all the time. It doesn’t matter where it came from. Despite all that, I never wanted them to go back to the family they despise to do the work they hate.
Ezra snaps his fingers. “Hey, you can’t fall apart now. We’re in the middle of breaking out of literal hell. Wait to freak out later.”
He’s right. This is not the time and certainly not the place.
Deep breath. In. Out. Focus.
I force a scoff. “That’s rich coming from you.”
He winks and throws up some finger guns. “I freak out before the job so I don’t freak out on the job.”
I roll my eyes but nod and square my shoulders.
“Okay, so,” I say, voice steadier, “how did CJ bring you here?”
He opens his hand to reveal the limen stone. The rune now has a faint glow. “They summoned me as soon as they got a moment alone. My job was to pickpocket a key, then find you and tell you the plan.”
“Which is?”
He cringes. “They told their family they want to torture you because of what happened with your brother.”
“Damn, everybody’s really leaning into that,” I mutter.
“They’re still negotiating with their family, but the hope is they get to escort you themself, and then they can take you to Credence’s cell.”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a skeleton key. An actual skeleton key. Like, a key made out of a skeleton. A finger bone forms the stem, the jagged end is a molar, and the top is a single vertebra.
“I got this off a guard. It should fit all the cells.”
He hands it to me.
I almost take it from him, but then I pause. “What will you be doing during this plan?”
“Nothing. I’m supposed to wait for you at the employee depot. It’s where the syndicate members come in and out. Tolliver should be able to pull CJ out from there, and then they’ll summon me back.”
This plan has something missing. It would be nice to have more variables under our control.
I look at the empty guard uniform on the floor of the cave, the crumpled map next to it, and grin. “I have a better idea.”
Ezra follows my line of sight. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ezra locks me back in the cell before he leaves. A desperate sort of panic wells up in me as I watch him disappear into the darkness, like I might have just made a horrible mistake. Fortunately, CJ shows up about half an hour later, striding in like they own the place, eyes cold and mouth tight.
Unfortunately, they’re not alone.
I don’t recognize the woman they’re with. She resembles CJ, though, so probably some distant cousin. Early thirties, brown hair pulled up in a severe bun, deep frown lines. She’s wearing a pantsuit that looks like the ones I wear when I want to trick someone into taking me seriously.
“Here she is,” Pantsuit says. “Apparently, she’s been a bit of trouble, so she had to be isolated. She’s already been in today, but the more sessions, the easier to break their will.”
CJ swallows.
Pantsuit gives them a cruel, eager smile. “You must really hate her to come back just to get a chance at torturing her.”
CJ’s eyes meet mine, their expression blank. “You have no idea.”
Here’s the thing: CJ is just as much a con artist as I am. They just play a different role. I make people feel comfortable, relaxed, optimistic. They…unsettle people. And right now, they’re making me feel really unsettled.
Pantsuit opens the cell door and motions me out. CJ binds my wrists behind me with rope, but with our current company, I can’t twist to see which knot they’re using. It doesn’t feel like the two half hitches.
It’s not hard to play my role as I’m led past cells and wailing souls, Pantsuit droning on at CJ, who isn’t even pretending to listen.
I’m running on the adrenaline high of the job, reacting and adjusting as I need to, but the closer we get to the interrogation room, something cold seeps in. Panic coils in me.
If Pantsuit doesn’t leave, CJ might have to actually go through with it. Put me in that bone chair and tease my soul apart. There’s a weight on my chest, and I feel like I’m having trouble breathing, even though I don’t need to breathe here.
Okay, I may have downplayed the torture a little.
No, it didn’t hurt in the traditional sense, but it damaged something deeper. Like I was being unraveled or eroded or pruned. It injured me in a way I don’t know how to heal, each layer being scraped away to get to the core of me. It was worse than pain.
It was exposure.
But if the crew asks, it was “mild psychic discomfort.”
We stop in front of the interrogation room, its obsidian door blending in with the surrounding rock.
I look at CJ. Their angry mask is in place.
I try to send a little bit of emotion their way.
Just enough that they know we should avoid this if we can.
But it’s impossible to tell if they understand.
“Did they show you how to work the equipment?” Pantsuit asks.
CJ nods.
Pantsuit turns to go, and I briefly close my eyes, letting out the quietest sigh of relief. It can’t be that easy, can it? She’s just going to leave us here, and we can go on our merry way? No more torture? Straight to Credence’s cell and then on to freedom? I’m almost feeling optimistic.
Which is, of course, when she stops in her tracks.
“Do us a favor?” she asks CJ. “See if you can get any more information about her parents. Her brother wasn’t very helpful.”
My head whips up.
CJ’s mask slips. “Her brother’s here?”
Pantsuit nods.
This is one of those times that I really wish CJ could read my mind and not just my emotions. First of all, I would have a great big I told you so for them. Second of all, this is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.
Their jaw is ticking away.
Come on, CJ, get her to tell you where he’s at.
CJ swallows. “Hey, Melody.”
Their voice is strained. Come on, CJ, pull it together.
“We should…do the torture in front of her brother.”
Oh, that’s brilliant. A darker route than I would have gone, but it gets the job done. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep from cheering.
Melody smirks. “You’ve gotten ruthless since you left. Where’s the little kid that cried when we learned where hamburgers come from?”
CJ doesn’t react.
“Unfortunately,” Melody says airily, “I can’t take him out of the spire without a ton of paperwork. But he was your friend, right? I’ll take you to see him next time you’re here. He’s with the other ethereals.”
I would have preferred she take us right to him, but this is definitely enough information for me to work with.
Pete said he came from a tower in the middle of Tartarus.
The interrogator said the ethereal souls are kept at the top of the tower.
Melody says that Dante’s with the other ethereal souls.
As long as there’s only one tower in the middle of the abyss, we’re back in business.
Without another glance, Melody leaves, disappearing into the dark. I hold my breath.
As soon as her footsteps fade, CJ’s mask drops, and they grab my face.
“Are you okay?”
I stare at them in shock. I expected them to be angry. At the very least disappointed. Bitter. Resentful, even. But this is concern and relief. This…softness—it’s an expression I’ve never seen before.
I’m going to be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out.
“Can you untie me pwease?” I say through squished cheeks.
They blink and release my face. I turn slightly so they can undo the knot.
“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging off the rope and turning to them. “What’s a few days in hell?”
That weird, soft expression is still on their face. “She said they tortured you!”
I shrug. “No big deal. It was like summer camp. I made a friend, got in a fight, had part of my soul sucked out—the usual.”
They mutter a curse, pinching the bridge of their nose. They’re quiet for a while, but I can see the wheels turning, and I know they’re either trying to decide what to say next or counting to ten.
They finally give up and just ask, “Where’s Ezra?”