Pesky Sunlight #2
His jaw ticked and I narrowed my glare into the pits of darkness that stared back at me. His silence said it all.
“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.
I’d done countless life-endangering things during my time at the Hive, but antagonizing a predatory vampire like Vaspar was definitely one of the most purposefully reckless choices I’d made.
He snarled and pushed his face to the bars. “We don’t need you.”
Cova shifted her weight.
“You’re boring me with this tired narrative.” I turned away from him and saw Cova staring at me with an expression foreign to her features.
Stone scraped at the thinning fabric of my mangled garment as I slid to sit on the dungeon floor. Vaspar was still seething at the cell entry.
“I could rip these bars off and drain each of you. Here and now,” he threatened through gritted teeth.
“I believe you could. But I don’t believe you will.
” I pulled back a few rebellious tendrils of hair, repinning them as I glared down at a fuming Vaspar.
“No. I expect you’ll linger and stalk, but I don’t think you’ll actually do anything.
Your words are nothing more than empty threats.
Because you’re a well-trained dog, aren’t you?
You probably haven’t had a thought for yourself in decades. ”
The bars groaned beneath Vaspar’s white knuckles. His fangs jutted over his thin, dark lips, and wrinkles littered his forehead from the depth of his scowl.
Fevered rage rippled off of his lean, ghostly form. “Mark my words. When he is done with you, when he’s had his way and his fill—it will be me that finishes you. I will revel in the pleasure of watching the life go out of your eyes as I take every drop of blood from your body.”
“I’ve done nothing but wait for death to finally claim me for months.” I sighed. “Death doesn’t scare me. And neither do you.”
He pushed away from my cell and scoffed at his failure to elicit his desired response from me. Then he sniffed the air. Once, twice. And a slow, sinister grin spread across his pale, narrow jaw.
My heart sank as I watched Vaspar’s eyes slide away from me. To a new target. The vampire had locked his gaze two cells down. To Lydia’s cell.
“How about you?” He hissed as he approached her. Lydia shrunk away, trying to blend in with the walls and shadows of the prison.
“Hmm…” He tilted his head as he assessed her and then looked back at me. “She doesn’t seem to share your same sentiment.”
“Leave her alone,” I bit out.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Vaspar sucked in a long, satisfied breath. His dagger reappeared and he tapped it on the bars before clicking his tongue at Lydia. “Have we met? You smell…familiar.”
I stood up so fast that my world tilted and I had to steady myself against the dewy stones.
He licked his thin lips. “I can practically taste you from here.”
Cova flew to the bars adjacent to Lydia’s cell. “If you touch her, I will tear you apart.”
“Aaahhh. The sister speaks.” A wry smile stretched wider than what seemed possible for the frame of his face.
“The sister has a name.” She was drawing him in. She didn’t know what she was up against.
“If the sister wants attention, she could have simply asked.” His eyes raked over her and I watched his attention linger on all of the places I knew his kind enjoyed to feed.
“Are you quite done with us?” I pulled Vaspar’s attention back to me. I’d experienced his hunger, fallen victim to his strength and power. None of us were any match for him. But if any of us was going to suffer his malice, it would be me.
“If I have my way, I’ll be done with you two quickly.” He wagged a finger between myself and Cova before aiming it toward Lydia. “And I’ll take my precious time savoring your daughter.”
When he said those final words, it wasn’t Cova he looked at. No, he aimed the endless dark of his gaze directly at me. This wasn’t a threat. It was a fierce, violent, honest promise.
There was a thick, invisible line of tension taut between Cova and myself.
Despite our differences and messy history, this we were aligned on.
It didn’t matter that she’d come from my body or that Cova had taken her in to raise as her own.
I knew in my bones that we would both do whatever we could to protect Lydia.
Even if it meant putting ourselves through unimaginable pain, or even finally giving ourselves to death.
I watched as Lydia’s wide eyes traded fear for confusion as she began to put the pieces together. She looked at the predator, then to me. The question plain on her face. The truth I’d avoided since Lydia’s birth slammed into me like an unrelenting wave.
I put my hands up toward her, a signal to stay quiet. To stay calm.
Somewhere beyond the dark depths of the dungeon, the unmistakable gong of the Hive’s bells chimed their morning song. Dawn was approaching.
“Ah. Finally.” Vaspar chuckled to himself. His delight sent a bolt of concern to every corner of my body. “Ladies. I’ll come back for you. But now, I have another engagement.”
“Please, do forget to close your curtains before you go to ground, filth.” My cool demeanor had fallen away and left only my unfiltered venom.
Vaspar remained unbothered. He narrowed his vision in a way that made me feel like he had another cruelty yet to give. “Ah, yes. That pesky sun.”
Dread crept over me.
“Would be a shame to be caught in it…”
My teeth pressed together, ready for his verbal strike to land.
“Any final words you want me to share with the commander before I leave him to greet the dawn?”
There it was.
My breath caught. Not at the prospect of Dommik’s impending death, but that he was still alive. Somewhere. Somewhere in this Hive he still drew breath.
Succumbing to the temptation of hope felt far too dangerous, but it was there, shining and vying for my attention.
“I’ll tell him myself.”
Vaspar let out another eerie cackle. “Oh, you simple, stupid woman. When will you see? There’s no hope here. No hope of escape. Or life. The faster you come to terms with that, the easier this death will be on you.”
With that, he turned on his heel, his head held high as if he’d won. We listened to the gentle tapping of his boots on stone.
“Is it true?” Lydia squeaked.
“Darling—” Cova moved to comfort her adopted daughter.
“No. I’m asking her.” The fire in Lydia’s eyes transformed her into my twin at that age. All hair and rebellion.
I placed my hands over my heart and my navel as I softly assured her, “This isn’t how we wanted you to find out.”
“When had you planned on telling me?” She stood abruptly, her fierce gaze still locked on me.
“We hadn’t really—”
“We didn’t know—”
Our fumbled words collided in a mess of vague and unfinished explanations.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “You—you weren’t planning on telling me. Ever. Were you?”
I let out a heavy exhale and looked at my sister. The truth was Cova and I had never spoken about it or agreed. It had been our father’s ruling we honored.
“This will ruin our family! You’re never to speak of this!” His booming words echoed through my memory as if he hadn’t spoken them to me fifteen years ago, but was here with us in this subterranean prison.
Cova hadn’t carried or birthed her. But Cova was her mother. She’d earned the right to call herself Lydia’s mother. And who would I be to take that from her, or even try to share it, when I had been nothing more than a distant aunt?
“No,” I admitted.
Lydia scoffed and she looked to Cova as tears welled in her eyes, begging the same question.
Cova looked to the floor. A rare moment of defeat for my impenetrable sister. I couldn’t imagine the hurt and betrayal she must have felt at that moment. A lifetime of love, shattered.
My sister gently shook her head.
Lydia turned away, wiping tears attempting to escape down her flushed cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I was unsure what else I could say that could appropriately sum up the depth of remorse for the way this information unfolded to her.
It should have been delicate. Private. Not tossed about as a piece in Vaspar’s twisted mind games.
I grieved for her. For both of them. But we didn’t have time for feelings.
“I truly am so sorry. But we need to find a way out of here. The light will only be on our side for so long.”
The air was thick. Their mourning of the relationship they had—the truths they knew—hung heavily around us.
Lydia kept her back to us as Cova finally asked, “What do you propose we do? We don’t have keys. Everyone is dead.”
“Not everyone,” I declared, because Dommik wasn’t dead. And if Eryx and Vaspar had kept him alive, who else might be alive?
She raised a brow as I walked to the bars that separated us.
I reached through the metal and said, “Give me your hand.”