Page 105 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
Lu stiffened against the restraints. Her breath hitched. No! Magnus, don’t come! I know what Demetrius saw in his Dream—don’t come!
There was an awful silence. Then his voice, still so dark, still so mad with rage. You’re my destiny, Lumina. I. AM. COMING!
He was abruptly gone.
She moaned, and a voice spoke.
“Subject, are you unwell?”
It was a male voice, perversely solicitous, emanating from directly overhead. Through a speaker, she assumed.
“Subject? Please respond to the question: Are you unwell?”
Lu ascertained several things quickly. One: This speaker was concerned with her health. Which meant he wanted her alive and probably comfortable, at least for the time being. Two: He had little, if any, idea what her current state of health actually was. Which meant that either he wasn’t entirely certain of the efficacy or power of the drug that had been used to take her down, or what its effect on her might be. And three: He was being polite, which hinted that she had value. Like the owners of expensive pets, the owners of valuable property tended to treat their possessions well.
And expend a great deal of effort making sure those costly possessions stayed in good repair.
Lu moistened her lips, trying to look as weak and pathetic as possible. In her best frightened school girl’s voice, she said, “I’m very thirsty, and disoriented. My head really hurts. Sir.”
She threw in the “sir” at the end on a whim, and was rewarded by the unmistakable sound of a man grunting in satisfaction. There was a prolonged silence, then the man spoke again.
“Subject, we are sending in water. Any attempt to harm the associate who brings it to you will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The air vibrated with that satisfaction again. Lu remembered how Lars, the Hospice head cook, used to preen when she called him herrchen. She’d just learned a valuable lesson about insecure men.
A door, hissing open then closed on a gust of pressurized air. Footsteps, drawing near. The feeling of a presence beside her, then a voice, so familiar she froze in disbelieving astonishment.
“I’m going to bring the cup to your mouth,” said Dieter Gerhardt, leutnant of the Peace Guard, the man who’d warned her about the Grand Minister the day she burned down the Hospice.
Thank you, God.
Lu knew they were being watched, knew their every word was being listened to, and recorded. Though her heart thrummed like a hummingbird inside her chest, she merely nodded, and parted her lips.
He lifted the cup to her mouth. She drank deeply. It was clean, pure water, some of the best she’d ever tasted in her life. When she was finished, she turned her head and Dieter took the cup away. She whispered, “Thank you.”
Dieter—listen to me.
Beside her, he jumped as if electrocuted. The voice, now fraught, shouted over the speakers.
“Lieutenant! Report!”
“Excuse me, sir, it’s nothing,” lied Dieter smoothly, controlling his voice. “I just wasn’t expecting it to speak.”
It? Thanks a lot.
You scared the scheisse out of me, Lumina! How is this even possible?
Lumina ignored that, cutting to the chase. Are we at IF headquarters? What floor am I on? Picture it in your head. I need to get to the control center, the computers! I need access to the—
Dieter cut in, frantic. Listen—Thorne is on his way. We’ve never been able to get close to him, he only allows Enforcement near, but if you can distract him long enough to—
“Lieutenant, please remove Subject’s blindfold.” The voice over the speakers was mild, satisfied with Dieter’s explanation, but Lumina wasn’t listening, because everything inside her had ground to a halt.
Thorne is coming.
Thorne is coming.
