Belinda gave a little squeal. “I’m so relieved. I can’t tell you how depressing it was to be stuck in that murder outfit.”

  “I’ll bet. Now, if only you could magic up a few blood vessels so that I could feed from you and gain my strength back,” I went on.

  “Eww, I’d never let you feed from me. I’ve always hated the idea of being bitten. Why don’t you just take Vasilios up on his offer?”

  I sighed, regretting having filled her in on that particular part of my conversation with him.

  “It’s not like you have any better options,” she went on. “And maybe it’ll speed up this whole process of getting him to trust you. Doesn’t the way you feed create a bond?”

  “Yes, and that’s exactly why I won’t feed from him.”

  I felt her studying me, her voice contemplative when she said, “Interesting.”

  “What?” I replied crankily, not liking her observant demeanour.

  “Nothing.”

  “Quit being evasive and just say it.”

  “Well,” Belinda began, folding her arms as she walked to the other side of my cell, her brightly coloured dress swishing silently, “it just seems like you’re scared there might be a part of you that’s attracted to him, and if you feed from him, that part will grow.”

  She shot me a meaningful look, and I stared at her, stunned. So stunned it took me quite some time to find my voice. “I am not attracted to him.” I paused, lowering my volume before I continued, “He framed me for murder. I couldn’t be less attracted to him if I tried.”

  “Okay, but you’re obviously attracted to weirdos who your parents wouldn’t approve of. Why else would you be going out with Peter Girard?”

  “Peter isn’t a weirdo.”

  “He’s a loner.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “He’s a little bit of a loner, Darya. And your families have always been at odds. That’s why you chose him. You subconsciously wanted to make daddy mad. But now that your family has accepted Peter, he’s not as exciting anymore, so you have to up the ante. And what better way than to go after the guy who planned to kill your parents.” Belinda shook her head. “Some girls have such fucked up psychologies.”

  “I’ll repeat. He framed me for murder. He tried to destroy my entire life. I hate him.” I was mad at her for insinuating I had daddy issues. My father and I had a great relationship, so she was way off on that front.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but what if it wasn’t him who framed you? Did you ever think of that?”

  I frowned at her. “Of course, it was him. Who else would it be?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, but you said he seemed angry at you when he spotted you. What if he wasn’t angry at you but angry at the fact that you’ve been sent here?”

  Her question gave me pause as I remembered how he’d been earlier when he examined my injuries. He’d seemed pissed on my behalf, but then again, it could’ve been part of some ploy to throw me off the scent. Vasilios was an excellent actor. He’d pretended to be my friend Nic for months, created a whole shy boy persona, and nobody suspected a thing. His anger at my being there could very well be an act, too. But then, he’d looked shocked to hear Belinda was dead. If he’d orchestrated it all, then why would he be shocked?

  “He’s acting,” I replied, even though doubts were creeping in.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is you should keep an open mind. You’re stuck in this place, and things might not be as they seem. I don’t want you to spend your time looking at the wrong suspect. Someone killed me, Darya, and I want you to find the real person who did it far, far more than you do.”

  I heard the truth in her words. Belinda might be a sarcastic, mean girl at the best of times, but her life had been cut short, and she deserved justice. She deserved to know why. And if the why of it wasn’t as simple as Vasilios enacting his revenge, then what the hell was really going on?

  “Okay, I’ll keep my mind open, so long as you quit suggesting I might be attracted to my mortal enemy.”

  “Hey, no judgement. Danger is sexy.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned, wishing I had a pillow so that I could throw it at her head.

  ***

  I eventually managed to get a few hours of rest. My dreams, however, were more than a little disturbing. I saw myself on the boat to the prison, sitting on the same bench I had during the journey, but I wore no handcuffs. Instead, leafy branches began sprouting up from the bench. They twisted around my wrists before crawling up my arms. More branches captured my torso, pinning me to the bench until I was completely trapped, my entire body held in place. I gasped for breath as the branches finally twisted across my mouth, biting into my skin so I couldn’t even scream. In the distance stood Peter, yelling for me to come back. Don’t go, Darya! I wanted with every fibre of my being to break free, jump from the boat, and swim to shore, but it was no use, and eventually, Peter faded into darkness. I could no longer hear his call.

  I woke with a start, sweating profusely. My body had healed up a little after the nap, but I still ached in the places where I’d been injured. And now, after that horrible dream, my heart was sore, too. I missed Peter. I missed him terribly, and I’d barely been gone two days.

  The memory of my dream caused a chill to run down my spine. Why was I suddenly dreaming about tree branches? It was the same as the strange feeling I’d had earlier in the day, like a red tree had been calling to me.

  My thoughts about the dream were derailed when I noticed how dark it was. The small tendril of light that shone through the narrow window of my cell was gone. It was night, which meant one thing.

  The vampires were awake. I shuddered with the realisation.

  I rose from my bed and peered into the corridor. All was quiet. So much for Vasilios and Sven guarding me. They were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t know why I was surprised. He was definitely the type to break his promises.

  My stomach gurgled and the insistent need for blood that I tried my best to ignore gnawed at me. I decided I’d request a meeting with the warden and ask if he could provide me with a once-off blood donor to tide me over. I didn’t want to prey on another prisoner, and if I wanted to get strong again, I would have to feed. The warden knew I was undercover, so surely he’d be willing to assist.

  I stretched and attempted to limber up in anticipation of another attack. I didn’t have to wait long. Mack appeared in the doorway to my cell, her eyes gleaming with malice. Several other vampires, including my nemesis, Vincent, stood behind her. I often marvelled at people who went everywhere with a gang of cronies thinking they were tough. To me, it showed how scared they were deep down that they always had to be accompanied by a group.

  My father was the opposite of Mack. He went to most places on his own, never feeling the need to throw his weight around because he was confident in his power. It meant Mack had a vulnerability somewhere. I just needed to figure out what it was.

  Well, sunlight was an obvious one, but she still ruled during the night. So, what was she scared of?

  “You don’t look too bad,” she said as she sized me up. “I expected worse. Didn’t any of the shapeshifters rough you up today? They must be losing their touch.”

  “Rumour has it Serg wants to fuck her,” Vincent said, and I bristled. I’d never wanted to punch someone so badly.

  “Ah, that explains it,” Mack said with a tut. “It really is a pity how distracted some men can be by a pretty face.”

  “Personally, I don’t see it,” Vincent put in. “Her tits are too small.”

  “In comparison to what? Your own?” I shot back, and he scowled.

  A faint hint of amusement crossed Mack’s features as she glanced at her burly henchman. “She has a point.” Vincent’s scowl intensified.

  I caught movement in my peripheral and saw Vasilios standing by the railing one floor above, quietly peering down at us. Since her back was turned, Mack didn’t see him. I wondered what he intended to do, and then something shocking occurred. A thick, impenetrable aura of magic filled the air, like a tingle on the very surface of my skin.

  Oh my God, Vasilios really can access his magic in here!

  I couldn’t believe he’d revealed his hand so soon. Now, all I needed to do was get him to confide in me how he was bypassing the tattoos and contacting the outside world.

  I knew Mack sensed it, too, because her shoulders tensed. She stared at me in confusion, her eyes lowering to the tattoos circling my wrists.

  “How are you—”

  Before she could finish the question, the barred door to my cell slammed shut, closing her and Vincent in with me while the rest of her goons remained outside. I glanced momentarily at Vasilios, and he shot me a meaningful look. Suddenly, his voice was in my head.

  Pretend you can use your magic. It’ll scare her enough to leave you alone.

  “What’s going on? Open this door!” Mack demanded while Vincent advanced on me.

  “Do as the lady said,” he seethed.

  I quickly realised that Vasilios had somehow opened his mind to me, and I could talk back. How is this possible? The tattoos should be blocking your magic, I said.

  Never mind that. You need to use this moment to scare her. Get her to back off.

  He was right. This moment was opportune in more ways than one. Vasilios had just shown me he could access his magic, which brought me one step closer to completing my undercover mission, but I also had to use the moment to show Mack that she couldn’t mess with me.

  I stared her down just as Vasilios caused the locks on the barred door to click over. There was a flicker of fear in her eyes, and I realised what her weakness was. She was terrified of magic. As a vampire, she’d been born with enormous physical strength, but the trickery and mysteries of magic were something she’d never understand.

  “Do you want me to keep showing you why you should leave me alone?” I asked, infusing my voice with as much confidence as I could muster.

  She narrowed her eyes, staring back at me as though trying to suss me out. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but I knew she wouldn’t back down so easily, at least not in front of the other vampires. “You can keep showing me reasons, girl. We are, after all, quite starved for entertainment in here,” she replied, pretending she wasn’t scared.

  Well, crap. She was calling my bluff. The vampires outside the cell pulled on the barred door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “You really don’t want me to do that,” I said, eyeing her coldly.

  She folded her arms and smirked. “Oh, I think I do.”

  At that moment, Belinda appeared. “Darya, you’ll never guess what I just learned how to do,” she said before looking around and seeing my predicament. “Oh, shit.” A pause, then, “Hold on a sec. I think I might be able to help you.”

  I was still locked in a stare-down with Mack when Belinda, invisible to all but me, approached the diminutive vampire, leaned down, and blew on the back of her neck. I knew Mack felt it when she jumped in fright. “What was that? Who’s there?”

  Belinda went to the bed and effortlessly picked up the mattress before tossing it across the room at Mack and Vincent.

  “What the hell! Stop it,” she shrieked.

  Now, I was the one to smirk as I tilted my head. “Still want me to continue?”

  Mack’s eyebrows drew together as she shared a glance with Vincent. “No, you’ve made your point.”

  With that, the lock on the cell door clicked back over, the door sliding open on its own, thanks to Vasilios. Mack glared daggers at me before she left, and I knew she hated me even more now that I’d caused her to lose face. Hopefully, she was too wary of the “magic” I supposedly possessed to try and mess with me again. The other vampires retreated, and I slumped down onto my bed.

  “Well, that was intense,” Belinda said once they were gone.

  “Yeah, thanks for helping out,” I replied, shooting her a grateful look. “It seems she’s terrified of magic. Your intervention made her believe I have some powers.”

  “No problem. I’ve learned that I can do a few spooky things, like move physical objects or blow on the back of people’s necks. It’s been a very illuminating day.”

  “Is that so? Well, I knew being a ghost had to come with some fun perks,” I said, glancing up to where Vasilios had been standing. He was gone now, and I was eager to quiz him about what had just happened. If he was comfortable enough to show me his abilities, then maybe he already trusted me more than I thought.

  “You think scary vamp granny will leave you alone now?” Belinda asked.

  “Who knows? Hopefully, she’ll leave me alone long enough to complete my mission,” I whispered, just in case anyone was eavesdropping. I stood from the bed. “Speaking of which, I have a few things to do. You want to tag along or stay here and practice your new ghost skills?”

  She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “As if I’d stay here waiting for you in this hellhole. My grandmother has a beach house on the coast. I’m going to do some relaxing there for a few hours.”

  And with that, she vanished.

  I left my cell and wandered through the corridors trying to find a guard I could speak to. That was when I remembered the guards didn’t come in there. They merely locked us in and watched us from the safety of their observation tower. At least in human prisons, if someone was attacked, the guards came in and broke things up. In the Prison of Thorns, they allowed most situations to unfold without intervention.

  Other prisoners eyeballed me as I passed, but none of them tried to talk to me. Perhaps rumour had already spread that I was bypassing the power of the thorn tattoos. They were certainly eyeing me less disrespectfully than they had been earlier in the dining hall. Finally, I gave up and went to one of the only people who would actually speak to me.

  I climbed the stairs to Vasilios’s cell and found him reclining on his bed, reading a book. Unlike me, he had home comforts, a pillow, a blanket, extra clothing, and toiletries. I eyed his sink, wondering if his cell had running water. I knew there were showers on the ground floor, but I hadn’t had the chance to visit them yet.

  I didn’t enter the cell, instead standing just outside.

  He must’ve sensed my presence because he exhaled and closed his book. “Why are you standing there? Come in or leave. Make up your mind.”

  I stepped inside the cell but remained as close to the exit as I could manage. I cleared my throat, then spoke. “Thank you for helping me earlier.”

  His eyes flicked to mine. “You’re welcome. Is that all?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you knew of a way of getting a message to the warden. I was hoping to communicate with my parents, let them know I’m okay.”

  His gaze traversed my beat-up, dishevelled form, one eyebrow rising. “Are you? Okay, that is?”

  “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

  “Just about. And to answer your question, there’s no way to get a message out. This place is a fortress, and there is no communication with the outside world. You won’t see your parents until you’re released from here.” He paused to consider me. “Just how long is your sentence, anyway?”

  “Too long,” I replied evasively and took another step inside his cell, lowering my voice to a whisper. “But you sent me that letter and the flowers. How?”

  His expression sharpened. “What letter and flowers?”

  Okay, so he was going to play dumb. “What about the cell door earlier, then? You used magic to lock Mack and Vincent in. I don’t understand how that was possible.”

  Vasilios looked away. He re-opened his book and returned to reading, which I took as a sign that he was refusing to answer my questions. But then he said in a low voice, “It comes and goes. The tattoos don’t seem to restrict me as efficiently as they do the other warlocks and witches here. Perhaps because I’m genetically different. Though it doesn’t work all the time, there are moments when the tattoos’ power dulls, and I can perform small spells. It’s never strong enough to teleport, unfortunately.”

  “Oh,” I said, wondering if that was the truth. Maybe he was lying so that I’d underestimate him, or maybe he was being honest. After all, if he had possession of all his vast magic, surely he and Sven would’ve teleported from the prison months ago.

  Silence fell. Vasilios continued to read his book when I asked, “Do you have running water in here?”

  He lowered his book. “I do.”

  “Ah, um, cool.”

  He glanced from me to the small sink. “Is there no water in your cell?”

  I shook my head.

  “Would you like to use mine?”

  Something stubborn within me refused to accept the small kindness. “No. I was just about to go take a shower, actually.”

  He put his book down again and emitted another sigh. “You have no idea about the showers, do you?”

  I was sure my expression conveyed my confusion. “What about them?”

  “The elves run the showers. You have to give them something if you want to access them.”

  “Give them something like what?” I asked warily.

  “You could give them one of your meals in the dining hall. Or offer to clean out their cells. Massage their feet. Lots of inmates exchange sexual favours.”

  I stared at him, aghast. I wasn’t sure why, though. It was a prison, after all, and sex was a currency. Hell, it was often a currency in the outside world, too.

  Vasilios frowned at my reaction. “So innocent. You’re far too young to be in a place like this.” A flicker of anger crossed his features, and my throat tightened. I questioned his motives yet again. Was he angry because he’d set me up and regretted it, or was he angry because he worried about me being there? There was also the third option: he was putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

  “Even if I were older, I still wouldn’t use sex to get things,” I said.

  “You’ve not been brought so low to consider it, but believe me, Darya, when you hit rock bottom, there’s very little you won’t do to scrape your way back up.”

  “I thought I’d already hit rock bottom,” I said, gesturing to my beat up appearance.