“Here is that one Merethe talked about,” an Irish-sounding man states and chuckles after he speaks. “Though Merethe might be going senile. I doubt she is as great as she made out, sir. Maybe she is losing her touch.”
There is silence for a reply for a long while. Tension fills the cell, even when they aren’t inside it. When he speaks, his voice seems to suck the light from the room, and his dark, deep and cold voice takes over it. “Open the door and leave.”
I shiver from the sheer coldness and power in that voice that unsettles me right down to my core. A man in an old suit, with a pocket watch hanging out of his pocket, steps in front of the metal cage to the door, pulling out keys from his brown trouser pockets. He has grey hair that matches his bushy grey beard, but there is no doubt he isn’t human. He quickly opens the metal cage door and steps back, though his eyes fall on me for a moment.
My heart pounds as a man walks into the room and stops. I know for certain he is the one who spoke, he is the one that I should fear.
He is six foot easily, towering over me, and he is gorgeous in a way that can only be described as inhuman.
Immortal.
And so very not human. Sharp black eyebrows rest above his dark eyes. He has thick brown, almost black hair that falls around his face and stops at his shoulders. Several strands have been braided with red crystals, and silver rings clipped into the braids catch the sunlight. His jawline could make any god weep in its perfection, and his narrow lips seem soft almost, even with a light scruff of a beard gracing his jawline. His cheekbones are high and look strong enough to cut glass, and everything about him seems...cold. Empty. Lost.
Then his dark eyes lock onto mine, and I suck in a deep mouthful of air. Dark is a small word to describe his eyes, which are half black and half a deep red, the colour of blood. The black and red mixes together effortlessly, and it’s memorizing to stare at.
“Come to me,” he commands, and it’s a command mixed with magic, to say the least. Whatever the magic is, it pushes into me like a storm against a shore, and it hurts. God, it hurts to stop it taking over me. I grit my teeth through the pain, refusing to cower, refusing to back down. The seconds tick on and on until he stops and walks right up to me, grabbing my chin. His nails are sharp and completely black, curved into points that dig into my skin.
“Will you scream if I sink my teeth into your pretty neck and drain all of that courage right out of you?” he almost purrs. “Will you scream my name and beg me to stop?”
“Considering I don’t know your name, it’s unlikely. Unless you like being called Bastard, in which case, I can definitely call you that,” I growl right back at him, even as his grip borders on painful.
He could hurt me if he wanted. He could break me.
The vampire’s eyes widen with what I think is amusement and shock. “I will buy you and keep you as mine. Mine to bite, mine to fuck, and mine in fucking general. Get used to the idea.”
“I’d rather die,” I bite back.
His eyes narrow, and he digs his nails into my skin, enough to make several cuts. He drops me quickly, and my back scratches across the wall as I fall, managing to stop myself tumbling onto my ass. Damn. Effing. Vampires. My blood coats his nails as he slowly licks each one, his eyes closed shut, but I think he likes what he tastes.
One of the girls behind Lucy makes a small noise, and the vampire swiftly turns towards them, noticing they are there for the first time. He moves quicker than I can track, and then he has Lucy in his arms, and she screams as he bites into her neck. I don’t know how long I stare, paralyzed on the spot in fear as he drains her, but her screams slowly fade, and eventually her body goes limp before he lets her drop to the floor.
“Riona Dark, I will enjoy your company and your blood, I’m sure,” the vampire tells me, walking to the cage door like nothing happened and he didn’t just kill someone. He is fucking insane. “My name is Prince Maddox Borealis of the Vampires, and everyone calls me the Mad Prince.”
I stay silent as he leaves, never looking back once, and the second the gate shuts, I fall to my knees and throw up everything in my system, which isn’t much more than stale bread and water. After I stop heaving, I break into sobs, which I stop escaping my lips by holding my hand over my mouth. Tears fall down my cheeks endlessly as I resist the urge to scream and scream. Crawling over the stone floor, I pick up Lucy’s head off the ground and brush some of the hair from her eyes, her vacant eyes that stare up at nothing above me.
My mum’s words come to haunt me as I close Lucy’s eyes and say a silent prayer. “When everyone dies, they look at peace. So there is no need to fear what comes after death, because I have seen it is a better place than life. You may rest and god will watch over you. You’re with the angels now.”
Of course, she doesn’t reply, and it doesn’t make me feel better, but I hope she heard me somewhere. I close her eyes shut, giving her the peace she deserves, before resting my forehead against hers.
“I hope you’re at peace, Lucy Denlake, and I will keep my promise,” I whisper to her. The three other girls never move from the wall, and one starts screaming not long after, the screams mixing with those in the distance.
Hope is an easy thing to squash, apparently. All you need is death.
Chapter Six
I don’t know how long it is until the Irish man comes back to our cell with a bed on wheels and a plastic body bag resting on top of it. He unlocks the cage and comes in, pulling the bed with him as his keys clatter on his belt where he clips them. I am half tempted to try to steal the keys, but I figure the vampires would hear me a mile away, and where would I go? No, I need to make a better plan. Those ships have to leave at some time, for something more than humans.
“Shame,” the Irish vampire mutters to himself as he leans down and picks up Lucy’s body with more care than I expected of him. “Too young.”
“Then why do you do this?” I question. The Irish man looks at me as he places Lucy down on the bed, like he just noticed I am here. “Does life mean nothing to any of you?”
“We all have our debts to pay, little one,” he replies and pulls out a breakfast bar from his pocket. “The stealers always get me these when they collect humans. Want one?”
The stealers, that’s what the vamps who kidnapped me are called. Good to know.
My aching stomach screams yes, even as I shake my head and grit my teeth. The Irish man sighs and comes over to me, placing the bar in front of my feet.
“The name’s Eachann,” he introduces himself even though I didn’t ask. “And I won’t hurt you. I simply look after the auction house prizes and work with the stealers.”
“So this is an auction house? We are going to be sold off?” I question. He pauses before nodding his head.
“Don’t suppose telling you is going to do much harm,” he sighs. “The rich and powerful will come and buy whoever they want. Anyone still here after four weeks is sent to the whorehouses or bloodhouses on the island,” he explains, and my gaze drifts to the silent girl no one has bought. I gulp. “You’ve attracted more attention than most, little one, so you shouldn’t worry.”
“How is this place hidden from humans?” I question him. I might as well dig up as much information as I can from this vamp. Eachann straightens up and goes back to the bed.