Chapter 4
Lily of the Valley.
She stands against the wall, both wrists bound in metal cuffs pulled taut by chains that vanish into two small holes, likely slackened when it’s time for her to sleep. Her back is to me, and her white hair cascades all the way to the floor, curling around her feet with how damn long it is.
I take a step toward her, and only then does she move, her head turning slightly. She wears a dark blue gown with long sleeves that drape to her wrists, the hem brushing her ankles.
I’ve definitely heard of this Witch before. “I was under the impression she was killed.” The moment I speak, her hands begin to curl and uncurl into fists.
“No. The officials decided that killing them didn’t send a strong enough message. So while the public thought it died that day, the Witch community knew the truth.”
How the fuck did Alaric know she was here? I remember pretty quickly that he is a Fallen. Guess it makes sense.
Suddenly, the chains holding her arms up give way and drop to her sides. A soft sigh escapes her as she quickly leans against the wall.
I’m usually a sympathetic person—truly, it’s part of my charm. But not with this one. I know exactly what she did seven years ago, and sore arms is the least she deserves.
“Turn and face us, 0338.”
She shifts, rolling her shoulders as she presses her back against the wall, squaring herself to follow the command.
Again, her hands clench and unclench; now that I’m watching closely, I see why.
They’re puffy and pale, her fingers tinged with a bluish-red hue, and her veins appear blotchy beneath the skin.
I shift my gaze up to her face, and… Vayl above.
She looks a mess.
Alright, that’s not what has me surprised. She’s quite young looking.
Her skin is pale, almost alabaster, scattered with freckles of varying sizes across her cheeks, nose, and faintly on her forehead.
But they don’t hide the long scar that cuts across the bridge of her nose.
A dark pink line, nearly the same shade as her dry, thick lips, which press together and stick slightly.
The skin beneath and around her eyes is dark, like smeared makeup, but I know it’s not. It’s natural, just like her long lashes, my Gods. I’m sure she was beautiful once. But I’m the kind of man who sees past appearances, to the nature buried underneath.
This, no—she, is a murderer.
I’m no saint, but I draw the line at killing kids. She massacred an entire town, including one-hundred-and-thirty-six children.
I’d heard what happened in Sylverton in the days after the attack. The small town, tucked away in the Kulbolt Mountains, had been easy prey—barely four hundred people lived there. All the adults were slaughtered brutally, and the children… their hearts ripped from their chests.
It was hard to believe a single person could have done it, but then again, people like Lucifer exist. The species responsible was never disclosed. Even with my connections, that information was sealed tight. All but that title ‘Lily of the Valley’ I knew.
I suppose that makes sense now.
I have to admit, looking at her now, it’s hard to imagine she could’ve caused that kind of destruction.
The gown hides most of her figure, but she can’t be taller than, maybe, five foot nine at most, and that’s being generous.
Her shoulders look frail, though that might just be from a lack of regular meals.
The sudden sound of metal against concrete pulls me from staring at the girl.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Jozier dragging the table in from outside, with the other officer following behind, carrying the chairs. They set it up to my right; two seats, one facing the other.
“0338, you have a visitor. You’ll behave yourself.” The warden slams his hand onto the table. I’m not entirely sure if it was meant to startle the girl, but she doesn’t move a single muscle. “And answer his questions.”
She stays quiet, not even giving the guy a simple nod of acknowledgement.
“Cause trouble, double the standing time.”
I smirk, listening in on her heart that is bound to betray this act she’s putting on, like she’s bored.
However, to my shock, there’s no difference. It’s just as steady as it was the moment I walked in. I run my fingers through my let-down hair and hum.
Interesting.
“Do you understand?”
This time she nods, and while I am a man of words, it doesn’t seem to bother Warden Sook. “Jozier will—”
“I would like to speak with her alone.” I turn to look at him, and he appears anything but pleased. The smile he’d worn for me earlier is gone completely.
“I said we can’t have that,” he grits out.
“Listen, I get it, really.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’m not here to compare dick sizes… unless you make me.” I’m willing to do anything to get Lucifer back, and I quite literally mean anything.
Glancing between the three of them, the officers look uneasy, while the warden just seems baffled—at my audacity, maybe, or at the way I roll my shoulders and pop my neck side to side, like I’m readying for a fight.
“You could try to drag me out, or you can let me get what I want, then I’ll be on my way.”
I smile genuinely at him.
A moment of silence passes; the room so still that even the chains don’t rattle.
I have to admit, I’m impressed by the Witch’s composure.
Maybe she’s just hungry, her stomach did growl while I was talking earlier.
She’s likely hoping good behavior earns her a meal.
Or maybe it’s just the psychopath in her. Probably the latter.
“Cuff her hands behind her back,” Sook finally bites out. “You have ten minutes.”
“Plenty of time.”
“The door stays open—”
“No.” I cut him off.
“The wards will keep us from hearing anything.”
“I said…” I take a step forward as Jozier moves behind the Witch and out of my peripherals. “No.”
“We are doing you a favor here, Butcher.” I’ve clearly worn through his patience—unfortunate, but not my problem. After this, I won’t be needing anything from him anyway.
“Last favor, then,” I say coyly. “You know… for my rank and all.”
The moment his mouth opens to say something stupid, I bare my teeth and snap, “It’s not a request, Warden. Get the fuck out and close the door.”
So much for playing nice.
After steadying himself from nearly stumbling at the sound of my raised voice, he glances at his officers, and they hurry out without a word. I watch them go until the scrape of metal across the floor pulls my attention back to the Witch.
She’s sitting now, and the subtle tremble of her eyelids makes me wonder if her eyes are rolling back. There’s no sigh of relief, but her shoulders slacken just slightly, and I can hear her heartbeat slowing.
The loud clack of the door closing behind them prompts me to take a deep breath. The air in here smells… odd. Not foul, just strange—like something natural, but tainted. Like the forest after a fire.
“Lily of the Valley,” I say while taking a seat. “We don’t have much time, which I can’t say I’m upset about. So if you can give me what I want, I’ll leave, and—”
“Okay.” She cuts me off. Her voice is gentle, not hushed, and surprisingly clear, not husky like I’d somehow expected.
“Okay, great. I need to find a Yldarwright.”
Her eyebrows raise as she shrugs her shoulders.
“One that’s useful. AKA: Not you.”
She lets out a soft huff, and even with her eyes closed, I can tell she’s rolling them.
“You can open your eyes. I don’t care if you see me.” I lift one ankle over my knee and sink slightly into the chair. “I’ll probably be the best view you’ll ever see again.”
Her cheek tugs inward as she tilts her head—once to the left, then to the right. “No need, I don’t need to see you to know exactly what you look like.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, and while I don’t doubt she believes it, I can’t help but bite to the challenge she didn’t ask for.
“Do tell.”
She releases an annoyed sigh. “You’re tall, based on your steps, probably close to… six foot nine. You’re big, but muscular. It’s like you take up space. I felt suffocated the moment you came into my cell.”
A deep chuckle escapes from my chest. “That doesn’t sound much like a compliment.”
“I’m simply stating facts. You’ve got long hair, probably to your shoulders.
I’m forming an estimate based on the knot you snagged on when you ran your fingers through it.
You weren’t dragging it down for long. You’re a Vampire…
” My eyes narrow, and while she can’t see it, she tilts her head as though she does.
“Fangs make a very distinct sound when they elongate, and I can smell blood.”
“I didn’t know Witches had heightened senses…”
I know they don’t, so color me intrigued.
“Things develop differently when you don’t use one of your senses.”
“Are you blind?”
“Not legally,” she answers quickly. “Now, let’s move on. I don’t need to—”
“What color is my hair?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Pink.”
“Oh come on, you can at least give it a good guess.” I cross my arms over my chest and wet my bottom lip. “And my eyes, why not.”
“You could be a blond with this attitude.”
“Ouch. That’s disrespectful.”
“And you’re a Vampire, don’t insult my intelligence. Time’s ticking. You’re wasting it with this.”
“It must be nice to talk.” She groans and shakes her head. “Maybe your last interaction for—”
“Good. I’d enjoy not having any more interactions. Now, please, ask me what you came to ask me.”
“Hair and eye color…” I’m not backing down, not until I can get some sort of reaction out of her. “Then I’ll move on.”
She releases a heavy breath through her nose.
“Red eyes, and…” She pauses, and I imagine most people would open their eyes just to get it over with and move on.
But she’s quite stubborn. “Deductive analysis would put you in a neutral color, darker, probably chocolate brown—and you likely have a beard to match.”
Instinctively, I drag my hand up to my maintained, full beard. It has her nodding her head.
“Full beard it sounds like, and definitely brown. If not, I give up. I gave it my best guess, now please, let’s move on.”