Page 50 of The Witch's Heart
He wants me to think I have some control. But why?
Several vials of blood later, Cutter is satisfied.
“Vezmete je do laboratore,” Cutter tells her and she leaves.
“When will you know more?” I ask.
“In a few days,” he says, and I scowl at his vagueness now that he’s gotten what he wants.
“I want Estelle moved into my room with me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
I curse myself for not negotiating for that to begin with. But I’ve already given away my leverage. My mind is still muddled from all the drugs they pump into me every day. It’s hard to think clearly. I should have taken more time, but it’s too late.
“I need to know she’ll be safe.”
“Schmidt and the others don’t have access to her,” he says, and I hate that he knows how to manipulate my fears. “She’s safest under my care.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“Rest. Recover.” His lips twist in one of his attempts at warmth. “You can begin by seeing your new accommodations.”
He opens the door and a man enters.
I’m halfway out of the chair when I recognize him and have to stop myself from shrinking back again.
“What ishedoing here?” I ask, unsteady from the blood loss and the memory of this man’s threats.
“Sir is here to escort you to your new room.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s just as cruel as Nurse Evil.”
Cutter’s brow lifts. “You outlined your terms very specifically, Celeste, and I was happy to meet them. We have an agreement. Besides, Sir has his instructions and will ensure no harm comes to you.”
I bite my lip.
“I’ve also taken the liberty of setting you up in a room large enough to share with your two Australian friends.” His smile is knowingly crude.
I stare at him, unsure whether or not to believe what he says.
Sir stands silently beside him and I relent.
“All right,” I say quietly, stepping past Cutter to follow Sir into the hall.
“I’m so glad we could find a way to work together,” Cutter says as I pass. When I turn back, his smile is sharper, his eyes gleaming with secrets. “For Estelle’s sake,” he adds.
“For Estelle,” I murmur and then leave him behind, along with the spirits who still cling to him, clawing at his clothes and skin, unbeknownst to him.
Sir is silent and stiff as he leads me through a maze of halls and two doors marked “Restricted” before entering a wing that looks more like a dormitory than a prison.
Still, I’m unsure what to expect when he stops in front of the last door on the left and swipes a key card to open it. Then he steps back and gestures for me to enter. I tense as I pass him, but he doesn’t touch me or speak. The moment I’m over the threshold, he reaches in and pulls the door shut. The self-lock clicks into place immediately, sealing me inside.
I exhale, shoulders sagging at the sight of Dean and Declan rushing at me from the other side of the room.
“What happened?” Dean asks.
“Are you okay?” Declan demands.
