With that, she walks out of the room and leaves me alone. I walk over to the small dressing table with a hair dryer, a small and old one by the looks of it, and a weird brown dress hanging up nearby on the wall. The dress is more of a sari with woven feathers all at the base of the dress, and it’s made from soft silk in three different shades of brown. It feels expensive under my fingers, and I hate that. I’m a prisoner, nothing more, and now I’m being dressed up for them to ogle. It takes me more than a few attempts to get the dress on and to work out that the design of the dress leaves my shoulders free and is tight around my waist.
Which makes sense with the whole biting of the neck thing. They wouldn’t want fabric in the way.
I quickly blow dry my hair and brush the knots out before standing up, looking at myself in the small foggy mirror.
I don’t look like me. I feel like the person in the mirror has aged a million years in only a few days. The beach, the party and my innocence seem like an old memory. My eyes catch the water in the tub, seeing it has turned pink from my dried blood.
I don’t think pink is going to be my colour anymore…it seems like blood red might be the colour I need to get used to. Cooling my shaky hands by plastering them to my sides, I walk out still in bare feet to the main area. Merethe turns around and smiles.
“You remind me of my first day here,” she comments, her eyes fixated on me. Something changes as she looks away and points at three boxes by the wall. “Take any shoes you like and meet me down these stairs. Be quick.”
She disappears before my eyes, and I only hear the creak of a floor panel to let me know she went that way. So the vampires can move fast, and Merethe was once human. More things to figure out later. If I manage to survive.
Peeling myself from where I was standing, I walk to the boxes and pull the lid off the first. It takes me a little while to find any shoes that fit my tiny UK size four feet, but eventually I find some worn leather boots. I slide them on, grimacing at the feeling of the leather against my cut feet without socks. I stand up and fix my eyes on a shelf above the boxes and what looks like a knife resting on the edge. Quickly, I put the lid back on the box and stand on it, reaching up and skimming my fingers across the edge of the shelf until I grab the blade handle. I pull it down, smiling to myself about my little find. The knife is sharp, and it has a black leather handle—nothing special, but it might get me out of here. I tuck the knife into my dress, using the many layers of fabric to secure it to my chest.
Feeling a little less nervous, I go to the stairs and walk down to the bottom, finding the place full of people sitting on the floor and Merethe waiting for me. She instantly grabs my upper arm and starts dragging me through the house until we get to a metal gate. Merethe places her hand on it, and it glows red for a second before the gate opens, revealing row after row of cages which are full of people, their desperate eyes cutting into me. Then I hear the screams and cries, the pleas that echo around the place.
“W-what was that?” I whisper.
Merethe laughs. “Witches built this island, and vampires took it, keeping every little spell they ever did. Welcome to your new life, Riona Dark. I have a feeling you won’t be leaving any time soon.”
Chapter Five
All night, there are screams. Screams of people who want to escape, screams of people in pain, and so many different types it’s impossible to do anything but listen. The screams are worse than the cries and pleas for help, for death, for anything or anyone to save them. My cage is a damp brick room with holes in many places, rat droppings in every corner, and one large arched metal gate with thick iron bars. The ceiling is pure stone but littered with tiny holes, and in the middle, there is a dim lightbulb on its own, every so often flickering. Even if I could somehow reach up, I doubt the broken glass of a lightbulb would help me much as a weapon. There are four other women in here with me, and we each sit in our own space, no one saying a word.
Because what is there to say? We all know we are screwed.
I do notice all the women must be under twenty-five, and they are all wearing brown clothes like I am, but theirs don’t seem to be as nice as mine. Basically, I somewhat stand out compared to them, and I don’t like that. Morning light flickers in even as my eyes threaten to close, but my body is awake, too wired up to rest. Three of the other girls here are fast asleep, two blondes and a black-haired woman. The only other person awake sits still, her gaze empty as she stares at nothing.
“Hi,” I say, as lame as it is. The girl doesn’t move or react, it’s almost like I’m talking to a ghost. I try again. “Hello?”
“Don’t bother, she has been here longer than any of us, and she doesn’t talk. They cut out her tongue and used their blood to stop her bleeding,” one of the blondes speaks up. I turn to look at her, her tanned skin and accent making me think she is from California, or near enough. There was a family that moved to my town when I was seven, and they were from California, moved for work. “What’s your name, and where you from?”
“Riona Dark, and I’m from Aberdeen, well, a village nearby it. I was taken from my university,” I loosely explain. Talking about the beach, the fact my brother and friends might be here and hurt, is too raw. I clear my throat. “What about you?”
“Lucy Denlake,” she replies cheerily, but I suspect that is just her nature coming through. “And I lived in a beach house in California. Damn, they took us from thousands of miles apart. Look, these girls don’t speak, or they are shit scared, but you seem like me. You’ve accepted your bad luck, and I think that might mean we are more likely to survive. Can you promise me something, and I will do the same for you if you want?”
“Why not?” I answer. I know I shouldn’t be making promises to strangers, but what could the harm be?
“If you escape this place, hopefully killing a few vamps on the way out, will you tell my boyfriend that I love him and have since third grade? His name is Rowan, and he will be looking for me in California. It shouldn’t be too hard to find him on Facebook or something,” she replies, breathing out a long exhale of cold air. “Do you have someone you want me to tell something to if I get out?”
I stare at her for a moment, seeing the desperation in her eyes.
“My brother is here somewhere, I’m sure of it...but my parents—” I gulp. “You could tell them I love them, and tell my uncle I wish I had listened to his letter,” I whisper, looking away at the floor. “I promise to pass on your message if I can.”
“Same,” she softly replies, and I look up, meeting her eyes. We both smile a little. “And if Rowan doesn’t believe you, tell him that tattoo on my butt is our secret. He will then.”
I chuckle a little. “What’s the tattoo of?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’ll never know.”
I laugh with her, and then I hear footsteps nearby, close enough to be heard over the distant screams and cries. Two pairs of them, and never before have I feared the sound of someone walking towards me as much as I do right now. I stand up, as does Lucy. The other girls all cower together in the corner, and Lucy moves to stand in front of them. I place my hand on the dagger under my dress, knowing it has to be the right time to use and not a second too soon. If one of these assholes tries to bite me, I can at least stab them and see if they bleed.