Chapter 18 #2
My fingers kept flexing like they were trying to sketch the air.
The door swung open and I scrambled to my feet. A tall, broad-shouldered woman in a Maritime Syndicate uniform, black hair scraped into a ponytail, poked her head through the door and scanned the cell like I might have a small army crouched beside the cot.
“Breakfast,” she told me and jerked her chin at someone in the hall.
A scrawny teenager with a shock of pink, blue and purple hair sauntered into the cell. Human. Despite the cocky grin he threw me, underneath he was wary… watchful.
“Morning.” He indicated the covered basket in his hands. “I brought food.”
The guard remained in the doorway, arms folded beneath her breasts. When I glanced at her, she moved a hand, making sure I saw the switchblade concealed in it. Don’t try anything funny.
I dipped my head. Message received.
She didn’t have to threaten me. I already knew I wasn’t leaving. I was in a dungeon, buried in a castle, marooned on an island owned by the Maritime Syndicate. Even if I escaped the cell, what then? They’d haul me back before I reached the castle gates.
This was their fortress—guards prowling, cameras watching, and doors bound in silver. I couldn’t fight my way out. I was a dhampir, not Wonder Woman.
No sense battering myself against a wall. The only thing I’d bruise was me.
But it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend or two.
I smiled back at the teenager, trying to project harmlessness. “Thank you.”
“I’m Rio,” he said. “And you’re Mademoiselle Nazaire.” He hit every syllable like an American and mangling half the vowels in the process.
“Please, call me Nyx.”
“Neex,” he echoed. “Dope name.”
That tugged a smile from me. A real one. “Thanks. It means night. In Greece, Nyx is a goddess—kind of an elemental force.”
“Very dope.” He set the basket beside the cot and flipped the lid open with a little flourish. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Inside waited a full-on feast—crisp bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, a croissant shining with butter, and a muffin studded with blueberries the size of marbles.
My stomach rumbled. “Starving,” I admitted with a rueful grin.
“Yeah? Well, enjoy.” He turned to go.
“Wait—stay. I’d like some company…if that’s allowed?”
I shot the guard a pleading smile.
Her expression didn’t so much twitch.
“It’s okay by me,” Rio told her. “The lieutenant wants her to have anything within reason.”
He did?
The guard grunted and pulled out her phone. A few seconds later, she looked up. “He can stay. Fifteen minutes,” she added, all steel.
“Understood,” said Rio. He waited until she’d stepped out of the cell, then settled onto the floor next to the cot. “Eat.” He handed me the plate. “It’s gonna get cold.”
I sat cross-legged on the mattress, the plate on my lap, and bit into the still-warm croissant. “Ohh...” My eyes slit with pleasure.
“Good, huh?” Rio stretched out long legs clad in ripped jeans, his back against the cot. He appeared relaxed, but underneath he was alert, sizing me up. “We buy them from a bakery in Bluebeard’s Cove.”
“It’s as good as you get in Paris,” I said around a mouthful of flaky goodness.
“I’ll let the baker know. I brought you coffee, too.” He passed me a spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin and a cup with a sip-lid. “I figured you being from Quebec City and all—you know, French. Café au lait.”
Actually I took my coffee black, but I took a sip, trying not make a face at the milky taste. “Half-French,” I said. “My mother was born in Spain. But they love their coffee, too.”
“Yeah? I have some Spanish in me—or that’s what my abuela says. My parents came from Mexico, but I grew up in Ohio. I’ve never even seen Mexico.”
“So you didn’t grow up here on the island?”
“Nah. I came here last fall with Eden—Talon’s mate. This is the first time I’ve been out of the U.S.”
“So you knew her in New York?”
His open expression faded. “Yeah, but how did you know that? She said you’ve never met.”
I took a sip of coffee. “When a lieutenant mates with a thrall, it’s news.”
The shockwaves had rippled through the QCS. My father had gloated, said it proved how weak Brien was, how unfit to be primus. A lieutenant of his claiming a human? A thrall? That was practically unheard of.
Rio still looked suspicious, so I changed the subject, even though I couldn’t help being curious about Eden—how she was doing, how old the baby was now.
“I like your hair, by the way.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” He ran a hand over his colorful locks. “I met Eden in New York—she saved my life. No lie. I was living in a park.”
“I’m sorry.”
He moved a bony shoulder. “It’s all good. Here on the island, I’m her companion—and Talon’s PA.” He added that last part like it was nothing, but pride radiated off him.
I let my brows lift, just enough admiration to make him glow. “A lieutenant’s PA? They must trust you.”
His chest puffed. “Guess so.”
I finished the croissant and started on the eggs, keeping my tone light. “Tell me about Bluebeard’s Cove. It’s here on the island?”
“Yeah.” He crossed one booted foot over the other. “Other than the castle, it’s the only place to hang. But it’s not bad.”
By the time I finished eating, he’d painted a vivid picture of his new home and its inhabitants. I hadn’t realized how many people lived on the island—both human and vampire—and how self-sufficient they were.
The Maritime Syndicate owned the land, letting the local humans live on it rent free. The homes and businesses were theirs to buy and sell as they pleased. In return, the syndicate enjoyed a steady supply of thralls—locals who were paid well and bound to service for only three years.
“Impressive,” I murmured. It explained how the syndicate had grown so powerful, despite their start on an island in the middle of nowhere.
“The whole freaking island is descended from pirates,” Rio added. “That’s how Bluebeard’s Cove got its name.” He gathered the remains of my meal and packed them in the basket. “Look, I gotta bounce.”
I came to my feet along with him. “Any chance you could get me a toothbrush and some paste? And a hairbrush—if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ll see what I can do, okay?” he said, and started for the door.
“Wait,” I blurted. “Could you get me pencils and a pad of paper?”
He turned back. “To write on?”
“No. To draw on.”
He brightened. “You’re an artist?”
I shrugged. “I just like to draw, is all.”
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t told him I was an artist—I could’ve agreed without admitting I was The Haunt. But I’d been hiding behind my party-girl persona for so long that denying it was instinctive.
The guard frowned at Rio from the doorway. “Time’s up.”
“Coming,” he replied and gave me a thumbs-up. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He was back within two hours with the requested items, including another lantern.
I desperately needed to brush my teeth—and my hair, for that matter—but I set the toiletries aside on the cot and reached for the pad of textured charcoal paper instead. “How’d you get it so fast?”
“I have my ways,” he said with a smirk, handing over a box of charcoal pencils—soft, medium and hard—and the special eraser that went with them. “You like?”
“I do.” I hugged the art supplies to my chest. “These are perfect.”
“Thank Eden. She told me what to buy.”
“Oh.” I blinked, thrown. “Well, please give her my thanks.”
“Will do.” He set the new lantern next to the one already in the cell. “The batteries are rechargeable. I brought you another one so if one dies, you can just turn on the other one. I’ll be bringing you your meals—just let me know when you need a charge, and I’ll take care of it.”
I nodded and opened the box. Eden had even included a pencil sharpener. She’d thought of everything.
Guilt tightened my chest, reminding me how close I’d come to having her blood on my hands, the choices I’d made that I could never take back.
“How is Eden, anyway?” I asked.
“Good.” A pause. “Why d’you want to know?”
I moved a shoulder. “Cain told me she just had a baby.”
A grunt.
I wanted to ask how the baby was, wanted proof they were both okay. But Rio had iced over, so I flipped open the pad instead. “Mind if I sketch you?”
His posture loosened. “Me?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a good face—interesting. One part nice, one part ‘don’t mess with me.’”
Like someone who’d seen too much for his age, been battered by life. But I kept that to myself.
“Huh.” He tilted his head, considering that, then flashed a crooked grin. “Later, yeah? I’ve gotta run. Peace out, ‘Kay?”
And he was gone.
I stared at the closed door. The lantern burned with a steady, unblinking light, but the room felt different without him—bigger, emptier. The shadows didn’t move, but they still seemed to twitch at the edges of my vision, like they were waiting for me to notice how alone I was again.
The silence pressed in, thick and heavy.
I straightened my spine and opened the box of charcoal pencils.