Page 3 of Vengeance and Vipers
He’s back to murmuring to himself. But when I look closer, is see he has something in his hand.
It’s a rat or a mouse. He’s talking quietly to it, feeding it something from his pocket. I wonder how long he’s been down here, how he survived when the others were imprisoned for half a month. Maybe Robertson, their butler, brought him food.
My own stomach rumbles. I have no idea when I last ate, but it was days ago. Food is probably not going to be coming anytime soon, either. Considering how things went in the Mountain, it’s pretty safe to say that Maddox and the others are not going to be taking care ofme.
Though as I look around the dungeon and see a grate built into the stone floor at one end, I guess I should be grateful they didn’t put me in the ancient oubliette and just forget about me.
I sniffle a little. I really thought that Axel and Jayce would have fought for me. But they couldn’t have because I’m down here. Everything they said and did really was bull, just like I thought it was.
I was right about them, and I should be glad. Vindicated.
But all I feel is loss, like my boyfriends just broke up with me.
I mean, Iimaginethis is what a breakup feels like. I still feel the connections that sparked to life between us like faint, muted, floating tendrils of light that go nowhere. I can’t feel them now like I could in the Mountain. In fact, I haven’t felt them since Maddox drugged them with the arania venom, I realize.
Did that even really happen, or was all of this Iron’s doing? Could he have made me see and feel everything he wanted from the moment he started torturing me in that room? He was certainly strong enough.
I shiver at the thought and then screw up my face in anger. It wasn’t just Iron who hurt me. I don’t want anything to do with any of them! I push the tendrils of Jayce and Axel away so I can pretend they don’t exist at all, and I try not to cry because I’m all alone now.
My hand rubs at my chest, and I gasp as I feel the ridges of the brand over my left breast. I look down, but I can’t see it. Whatever Dante did to it while he was cutting on me has disrupted the conjure but not completely dissolved it.
I need to get it fixed. I need to get out of here, get somewhere safe.
I snort at myself.
There’s no such place. Without the additional conjure to keep me hidden, they’ll find me. It’s only a matter of time. The thought terrifies me, so I push that away, too. There’s nothing I can do but wait for now.
I side-eye Krase, who’s lying on his stone bed, staring up at the ceiling.
And hope my prison buddy doesn’t get anywhere near me.
‘They told me you were dead,’ I say softly, and, at first, I think he hasn’t heard me.
But he slowly turns his head towards me, pinning me with a dark look that makes me a lot more frightened than I’d like to admit. The others are big and mean and frightening in their own ways, but Krase is on another level now. His eyes are wild. Unhinged. Crazy. His scariness rivals Dante’s.
‘They were right,’ he says, eyes still on me.
I go back to my own bed and lay down on it. My body may not look bruised and broken from The Demon King, but it hurts a lot. I turn away and open the blanket to look down at myself again. I run my fingers over one of the scratches. They hurt so fucking much when Dante did them; I figured they were way deeper than little flicks of a knife. I really thought he’d gouged me to the bone in some places.
I close the blanket and roll back over, curling into it for warmth.
Light comes into the dungeon through a grate high up in the ceiling. I might be able to reach it. But there are bars on it as well.
The draft coming from the outside is cold, and I’m guessing the season is turning. It must be almost October, and we’re high in the Alps. The temperature is going to be dropping fast over the coming days.
I curl up, shivering and closing my eyes as tiredness overtakes me.
* * *
I’m in a tunnel. It’s dark. It feels like the Mountain, but it’s different somehow. Someone’s chasing me, and I’m running as fast as I can, but I’m not getting anywhere. It’s like I’m stuck in a mire.
A dark laugh rings out from behind me, and I’m grabbed in a punishing grip. I scream, but a clawed hand claps over my mouth, silencing me. A knife teases its way down my body.
‘Time to bleed,’ Dante whispers.
My heart is beating erratically as I struggle in his grip. He keeps laughing, and it chills me to my core. Goosebumps track their way down my spine.
But when he turns me around, it’s Krase, not Dante, who has me.
