Thinking about dragging myself around this place with its bone-white floors and walls, scrubbing them clean, enduring jabs and kicks all day long, my soul recoils. That tropical pool I dream about is out there somewhere. Even if it feels like a fantasy now, it’s a place as real as this one. Wouldn’t it be worth anything to get there?
I’ll scream at the lock until I’m hoarse if that’s what it takes. I can do this. I have to.
I train my gaze on the lock and pull all my determination into my lungs. “Fee-doom-ace-own. Fee-doom-ace-own. Fee-doom-ace-own. Fee-doom-ace-own!”
The final incantation crackles over my tongue like an electric shock. The hairs on my arms jump to attention, my mouth goes abruptly dry—and the latch twists beneath my desperate fingers.
I’m so startled I nearly choke on the little saliva I have left. Breath held, I apply more pressure, and the latch turns all the way. The door squeaks open at my nudge. The way is clear.
I’m free. Of the cage, at least. Oh my god.
In that first moment, my body locks in place. I clench my jaw and tug the scratchy fabric of my blanket around me in a makeshift cloak. I ease out through the opening, first my head and shoulders, then a shuffling step—
A thump and a shattering sound reverberates through the room’s ceiling, and I flinch. Panic seizes me.
They’ve come back. They’ve come back early, and they’re angry.
The thought has barely passed through my head before voices filter through the door. Terror blanks my mind. On pure instinct, I yank the cage’s door closed and throw myself to the back of the space, huddling under the blanket in case something in my expression or my pose will give away what I’ve accomplished.
There’s a scuffling noise outside, which isn’t what I’d expect. Then footsteps tramp in, accompanied by those voices—but now that I can hear them more clearly, I don’t recognize the speakers.
“Phew. Whatever they were keeping in that cage, they obviously didn’t believe in cleaning up after it.” That voice is buoyant with more warmth than I’ve ever heard any of my captors express. He must take me for just a heap of blanket, nothing living in here right now. I will my body to stay utterly still.
It doesn’t sound as if he’s bothered by the fact that my captors would have been keeping something in this cage. Even if he seems friendlier than them, that doesn’t mean he’s any kinder. Who are these people? What are they doing here?
“This doesn’t look like a room where they’d be keeping their notes stashed,” he goes on. “Or… how did Sylas put it? ‘Apparatus’?”
The voice that answers is dryly melodic but equally male. “If only Aerik and his cadre had been kind enough to leave detailed instructions posted in their front hall. It appears they’re just as irritating in this as they are in every other way.”
“I suppose it is their big secret.”
“Let’s not have any sympathy for the devils, now. Come on, we may as well have a look in this cabinet while we’re here.”
I’m still tensed, motionless, under the blanket, but the fabric has fallen so that one fold gives me a sliver of a view into the room. A man strides into view, tall with ample brawn filling out his simple tee, dark auburn hair sprouting above his broad, boyish face. As he inspects the cabinet, his eyes gleam so avidly I assume the first voice was his.
He doesn’t look menacing, despite all that powerful bulk, and his ears are smoothly rounded at the top, but my gaze catches on the black symbols inked on his skin. One follows the curve of his bicep; another partly encircles his wrist. Symbols like the tattoos all three of my captors display.
My body goes even more rigid than it already was. Whoever he is, he must be one of them. A man-who’s-not-a-man. A monster in human-like skin.
The other man saunters up beside him: even taller and equally brawny in his high-collared shirt, his tawny hair rumpled into artful disarray. Where the first man gives off an eager, youthful energy, this one is all languid, muscular poise. With the angle of his face, I can only see the corner of his smile—and an ear with a low but obvious point at its peak.
“Well, now we know where they keep some of their empty glassware and linens. No papers in there?”
The boyish one leans in to paw through the contents. “Doesn’t look like it.” He sighs and swivels on his heel with no diminishing of his upbeat energy. “So much for that. Let’s see what else they’ve stashed down here in the basement.”
The poised one holds up his hand. The edge of a tattoo spirals up across the heel to his palm. “Just a moment. There’s something…” He inhales audibly and turns—toward me.
I stop breathing completely. I am a rock. A bundle of rags. A lump of nothingness that should be of no interest to anyone.
My silent pleas have no effect. The man’s nostrils flare, and he stalks toward my cage with a purposefulness that turns my gut to water.
2
Talia
With the intruder standing right in front of my cage, I can only make out one leg in trim midnight-blue slacks through the small gap in the folds of my blanket. My body screams out for me to sink into the hard metal floor, away from him—as if I wouldn’t have done that years ago if I could.
Please, no. I was so close. Just leave, leave me alone, let me flee.
My heart is thudding so hard it nearly drowns out his dry voice.
“With all the foul smells in here I almost missed it. Take a good, deep breath, little brother, and tell me what your nose tells you.”
The other one sucks in a breath. My own breath quivers over my lips, as shallow as I can keep it.
“There’s a hint—like the tonic.” The boyish one’s voice vibrates with excitement. “And… human.” Another breath. “Female?”
Oh, no. What do I do now? The cage door—it isn’t even locked. I released the magic on the latch. Horror crawls through me with a betraying twitch of my arm.
“Human, female, and awake, though in what state beyond that I can hardly guess. It would appear this cage is still in use after all.” There’s a rustle of fabric as the poised man drops into a crouch. “Get our glorious leader. He should be here for this.”
Footsteps thump as the other one dashes away. An ache has formed at the top of my throat. It’s taking all my strength to hold my body in place, frantic tension clutching every muscle.
The way these men have talked, I don’t think they like my captors very much. What does that mean for me? What are they going to do to me?
They could be better than the monsters who stole me… or they could be worse. And even better wouldn’t necessarily mean good. Right now, all I’m sure of is they’re cutting off my last chance at escape.
The man speaks in a lower, smoother tone. “Hello in there. Why don’t you come out and let us have a look at you? Can you even understand me?”
As long as he thinks I can’t, I have an excuse not to respond. I stay where I am.
More footsteps thump into the room—at least a few sets. How many of these intruders are there?
A rich baritone resonates through the room with a note of total authority. “What’s the fuss about, Whitt? We can’t be sidetracked by Aerik’s vulgar hobbies.”