Page 21 of Nearly Dead

Costin frowns, centuries of pain in his eyes.“You don’t understand my sister’s games.There is always a cost.”

We stare at each other, the gulf between us wider than it’s ever been.My emotions seem dulled, distant.Is this part of becoming a vampire?This cold removal from human feeling?

“I’ll consider Elizabeth’s offer,” I say finally.

“Tamara, please?—”

“You made your choice.”I look away.“Now I’m making mine.”

Costin appears like he wants to argue, but instead, he just nods and glances at the empty wine glass.“I’ll have food brought to you.Something more substantial than what I’ve been giving you.”

“You mean blood.”

“And meat.”He moves toward the door.“The wolf in you needs both.”

I hate the reminder, but my stomach growls in response.“Fine.”

“Tamara,” he pauses, his hand on the doorknob.“Whatever you decide about Elizabeth’s offer just be careful.My sister never gives anything without taking something more valuable in return.”

After he leaves, I test the shackles on my ankles.They’re stronger than the ones on my wrists had been.The chains are longer and I’m able to stand up.I’m still a prisoner, just with slightly longer chains.

ChapterSix

Hours pass and I feel every ticking second of them.A dull ache settles over my body, like a flu virus zapping my energy.At least it’s not the sharp agony of before.My hip and shoulder joints ache and there is no comfortable position.

I pace the length of my chains, testing the boundaries.I can just reach an ensuite, and I have to wonder at the thought given to the preciseness of my restraints.The mirror is old, more polished metal than glass, and I don’t like the chaos I see staring back at me.My eyes move over the walls, following grooves between the stones, imagining they are little trails leading to better places.Anywhere but here.

A servant brings a tray with a carafe of warm blood and a plate of rare steak.He seems scared of me, and I hear the soft clatter of his shaking hands as he sets the food down.Funny, since he works for a vampire, and I see puncture wounds healing in several places on his skin.Not funny, because there is a chance I really would try to eat him given half a chance.

I devour both blood and steak like a feral animal, happy no one is watching, and disgusted with myself even as I savor the taste.Afterward, I feel stronger.The room sharpens.Colors become more vivid, and sounds are more distinct.

Including the whispers that seem to come from inside the walls.

I follow a groove with my finger, letting it travel slowly along a wall until I reach a corner.I remember that road trip I took with Paul and Diana.Monsters were chasing us because Conrad told everyone I started the birthday fire that killed my family and others.It feels like a lifetime ago.I guess it was.That trip, those stolen moments with Paul, the innocent perfection of Diana’s childhood, they were the most human I’d ever felt.And just like mortality, the memory is so fragile.I feel like I have to bury it inside of me to keep it safe from the ugliness whispering to get in.

I press my cheek to the stone, trying to hear its secrets.At first, I think the whispers are simply my imagination, maybe the stressful aftermath of the goblins, or just my mind playing cruel tricks as sanity slips.The artificial lights dim behind the curtains to the fake windows to mark the evening in this underground fortress.I can see how it might trick someone who hasn’t seen a sunset for five hundred years, but to me the light looks off.

“Tam-tam...”

I stiffen.The whispers grow clearer and more insistent.I still can’t wrap my head around how even death doesn’t silence my brother.I thought it was over when the amulet killed him.But I didn’t know then what I know now.His spirit didn’t just disappear.

“Miss me?”

“Conrad?”I stay pressed against the wall, afraid to turn around to where the voice originates.

He doesn’t answer me, and I release a slow breath.It’s all in my head.I move to look at a dark corner to prove he’s not there.

I’m wrong.I see Conrad’s face.The familiar smile mocks me.I wait for it to fade.He can’t be back.The necromancer has him imprisoned.Conrad shouldn’t be haunting anyone.

“Death becomes you.”

I lean against the wall, liking the protection of it behind my back.“You’re not real.This isn’t real.”

“Time off for good behavior.”His voice is more corporeal now and I see his lips move.His eyes are two hollow dark pits in his transparent body.

The shadows writhe in impossible ways, and I smell the musk of old books and ash.The scents don’t belong in the room.

“This isn’t happening.”I can’t deal with a Conrad hallucination right now.It’s too much.“The necromancer would not have freed you without telling us.”

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