Her attention ran over my grubby appearance before instantly dismissing me and setting her eyes on Vasilios. I watched as she drank him in, her scorching hot gaze practically glowing as she admired his horns. Her attention traced along his facial scar and close-cropped hair before returning to his horns. They must’ve been quite the desirable attribute within the demon world. I’d never seen horns like the ones Vasilios and Sven had, not even on the demons who lived in Tribane. Theirs were different, slightly more majestic somehow, which was probably what made them so attractive to the woman. She hadn’t spoken yet, but I could tell from her body language that she fancied the pants off Vasilios. Perhaps Sven, too.

  Excuse me while I vomited.

  “Sarasin’s Midnight is coming up,” she said, looking at Vasilios. “Will you finally give in and come as my guest?”

  “Very kind of you to ask, Monica, but I actually received an invitation myself this time,” he replied. “So I’ll be attending as an official guest.”

  Sarasin’s Midnight? What the hell was that? It sounded ominous.

  She pouted like she was disappointed and sidled closer to him. “Moving up in the world, are we?”

  I became aware of her sharp fingernails. I couldn’t tell if they were natural or if she’d somehow filed them into shape, but they were like sharp little daggers as she lightly grazed them down Vasilios’s chest. For a second, I saw a glimmer of wariness in his gaze, which was odd. He was over a hundred years old if I remembered correctly. No way was he intimidated by the demon. She didn’t seem as old as him, nor as powerful.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.”

  She was visibly annoyed as she brought her attention to Sven. “What about you?”

  “I’m otherwise engaged,” Sven replied evenly.

  For a second, I thought she might lose her temper, but then she seemed to regain her composure, a cocky smile spreading across her plump lips. “Your loss,” she said with a flick of her short, glossy hair as she strutted away.

  “Okay,” I said once she was out of earshot. “What the hell is Sarasin’s Midnight, and why didn’t either of you want to go with her?”

  Vasilios shot me a look I couldn’t decipher. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. I want to know everything I can about this place.”

  “It’s better if you remain uninformed about this particular event. Believe me, it’s for your own best interest.”

  I folded my arms. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll ask someone else.”

  “Good luck with that. No one else will talk to you.”

  I scowled, about to argue that the woman in the cell next to mine had spoken with me, not to mention Serg, but I didn’t have the energy right then. The hunger for blood was becoming a little bit overwhelming. I felt distinctly woozy.

  Vasilios frowned at me. “You look ill. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying my best not to faint.

  He studied me closer. “You need blood. Why don’t you just—”

  “That old warlock is coming over again,” Sven interrupted.

  An elderly man who’d been sitting on the benches had risen and was walking directly toward us. He had long grey hair tied back in a ponytail, and he looked like he was well into his seventies. How awful it must be to live in such a place at his age. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

  It took him a while to reach us. His gait was slow, and I wondered how long he’d been locked up and what he’d done to deserve it. He must’ve been a younger man when he committed his crime because I couldn’t imagine him doing much harm in his frail condition.

  “What do you want?” Vasilios asked once the man finally reached us. He blinked at Vasilios’s abrupt tone.

  “I just came over to say hello. Family needs to stick together in a place like this.”

  Hold on a second? Family?

  “We might be family, but you know we can’t spend time together. You’re a warlock. It isn’t done.”

  “Oh, screw the rules,” the old man spat. “I want to get to know you. I’ve been in this place for almost twenty years. I’ll be dead soon, and I won’t waste any more time not knowing my great-uncle.”

  It suddenly dawned on me. I knew exactly who he was, and Vasilios wasn’t the only one he was related to. My coming to the prison had happened so fast that Peter and I barely had a chance to discuss the fact that I might cross paths with the one and only Marcel Girard.

  It was a name I’d heard a lot over the course of my childhood, and now, there he was. It was almost anticlimactic seeing him, his weathered face and grey hair. His features were recognisable, though. He definitely had the look of a Girard, the long, straight nose, the high forehead.

  Despite his frailty, his presence put me on edge because I knew how he’d betrayed my parents. I was also worried that he might recognise me or, at the very least, see some resemblance to my mother or father. At that moment, I was glad to be battered and dirty, covered in days-old blood and grime. I was barely recognisable.

  “Like I said,” Vasilios replied to him. “It isn’t done. Maybe one day, if we ever get out of this place—”

  Marcel scoffed. “We’re not getting out of here. They’ll never allow it.”

  “Unlike you, I’m not serving a life sentence.”

  “Doesn’t matter. They always figure out a way to stop us from leaving. Why do you think so many people end up hanging from that tree?” He motioned to the tree at the end of the yard that Vasilios had warned me away from. Not that I had any intention of going near it, not now that I knew people had died there. My vampire side was hypersensitive to death. If I got near the tree, I might be able to smell some remnants of those who’d passed.

  And no thanks to that.

  Vasilios appeared intrigued by Marcel’s theory. “You believe the guards are hanging people from the tree and making it look like suicide?”

  “In my time here, everyone I’ve witnessed hang was nearing the end of their sentence. Not days away from getting out, mind. No, that would be too obvious. But they could have a year left, a few months, maybe. No one has died who still had decades or more left to serve.”

  I listened with rapt attention and had to stop myself from commenting that if Marcel’s theory was correct, then he was safe from the hanging tree since he was there for life. Vasilios glanced at me when he said, “That theory isn’t too different from yours. Except, in this case, it’s the supposed good guys who are the killers.”

  Marcel’s attention fell on me for the first time. “What was your theory, young one?”

  I shrugged, deeply uncomfortable to have his eyes on me. Who knew what familiarities he might spot? “Just that another prisoner might be hanging people and making it look like suicide. I hadn’t considered it might be a guard.”

  “Yes, well, you’re new here, clearly. You’ll soon learn that the guards care nothing for us. All they care about is making sure we never taste freedom again. And don’t get me started on the warden, a vile, greedy man.”

  What he said gave me pause, because my safe removal from the prison all depended on the warden getting me out, but if he was corrupt I shuddered to think what might transpire. “Is he really so bad? Have you met him?” I asked and Marcel spat harshly onto the ground.

  “Once or twice. He’s an absolute weasel. Good for nothing.”

  My stomach twisted hearing this. “Well, let’s hope you’re wrong about the guards, for all our sake.”

  I couldn’t allow myself to imagine a world where the guards were murdering inmates because I needed to trust in them to let me out of there when I completed my mission. If there was corruption, well, I really didn’t want to think about it.

  I’d hoped Marcel would go back to ignoring me and conversing with Vasilios, but instead, he began to study me. I tensed.

  “What’s your name, child?”

  “This is Darya,” Vasilios replied, and my stomach did a somersault. Would he tell Marcel who I was, who my parents were? I was relieved when he simply finished with, “She’s a dhampir. That makes her ours.”

  “I see,” Marcel replied, eyes narrowing before turning away from me. “Well, I’d better get back to my kind since you have no interest in breaking the rules.”

  “As I said, maybe one day,” Vasilios told him.

  “Never going to happen. None of us are getting out of here alive,” Marcel replied like it was a basic fact as he hobbled his way back to the benches.

  “That was Marcel Girard,” I whispered, a tremble going through me.

  “What? Is the reality of the monster your parents concocted not living up to the stories?” Vasilios questioned.

  “He’s elderly now. Even the world’s worst villains seem harmless when they get old.”

  “Or maybe he’s not as bad as you were led to believe.”

  I decided not to comment on that. “You know he’s serving a life sentence, right? He’s not getting out of here.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, watching as Sven shot Vasilios a warning look.

  “It’s none of your business, is what he means,” Sven replied in a hard voice.

  I glanced from him to Vasilios, raising my eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me you two plan to escape?”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “All the maybes you just spouted. There are no maybes in a life sentence, especially not in this prison.”

  “Of course, there are. If a prisoner is old and terminally ill, they might be freed. Compassionate release, I believe, is what it’s called.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that’ll happen in Marcel’s case.”

  As Vasilios eyeballed me, a weird shudder went through him. He seemed oddly shaken for a moment before he regained himself. I narrowed my gaze. “What just happened?”

  He glanced at Sven, and the two shared another look without exchanging words. Then, to my surprise, Vasilios grabbed me by the wrist and led me back inside the prison. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

  11.

  Vasilios led me through several hallways where prisoners loitered before we arrived at a barred door. I felt his magic fill the air a moment before he whispered a short incantation and the lock turned over. It was then that I realised what had happened to him in the yard. His magic had momentarily returned.

  He’d said it wasn’t constant, it flickered in and out, and it was too weak to allow him to teleport. I’d thought he might have been lying, but now, I wondered if he’d been telling the truth. Did that mean he was telling me the truth about other things, too?

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked warily as he pushed open the barred door and led me down an empty stone corridor. It was dimly lit, and I suspected the guards didn’t use the area very often.

  “Somewhere you desperately need to go,” he answered, then pushed open the door to what appeared to be a cell, just much more luxurious than the ones we occupied.

  “What is this place?” I asked as I looked around. There was a double bed with a plush mattress, an antique metal frame, bookshelves, and a wardrobe. In the far corner was an open-plan bathroom with a shower and a shelf stacked with towels.

  “I already told you,” he answered bluntly when I finished taking the place in. “Somewhere you desperately need to go.”

  “You brought me here to shower?” A part of me felt grateful, but another part was wary. Why was he being nice? It didn’t make sense. He should hate me. In fact, as far as I was concerned, he did hate me, and whatever he was doing right now was a finely honed act, just like the act he put on when he was pretending to be Nic.

  Vasilios nodded, a frown marring his features. “I can’t tolerate seeing you so bedraggled.” There was something intense in his eyes that made my chest feel funny.

  “Wow, I must smell really bad,” I joked, trying to break the strange moment. “How did you find this place?”

  “Like I told you, my magic comes and goes. I discovered this cell during one of my explorations while my magic was strong enough to unlock doors.”

  I recalled what Sergeant Davis had said about the small, odd goings on at the prison, like doors being left unlocked that had previously always been locked. “I think this might’ve been where the prison guards slept on their breaks during night shifts, but it appears they haven’t used it for a while. I heard there’s a renovated wing in the observation tower where they sleep nowadays.”

  “That would explain the outdated furniture,” I said, running my finger over the layer of dust on the dark wooden wardrobe.

  “Sven and I have been using this place to shower when we can. It beats bowing down to the elves all the time.”

  “Well, thank you for the offer, but I can’t shower here.”

  “Why not?”

  “For a start, it’s open plan. I’m obviously not getting naked in front of you.”

  He shot me a narrow-eyed look. “Obviously, I’ll turn around. And there’s a curtain for the shower. See?” He pulled the blue curtain across the railing.

  I chewed my lip, wanting nothing more than to dive in and wash away the dirt and grime, but it was a favour, and favours often needed to be repaid. I promised myself I wouldn’t become indebted to Vasilios, but I couldn’t resist glancing longingly at the shower.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said.

  One eyebrow arched. “Oh?”

  “You’re trying to make me indebted to you.”

  He folded his arms and went to sit down on the bed. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “I’m sure there’s a reason you’re being kind to me. I just haven’t decided what it is yet.”

  He unfolded his arms and leaned back, eyeing me in a strangely tender way that made me feel uncomfortably exposed. “How on earth did you end up here, Darya?” he whispered. “Surely, there was a way of avoiding such a fate.”

  I sniffed and looked away, giving no response. How he spoke gave me a strange feeling in my chest. How was he so good at pretending he cared? It almost made me forget why I was there, how he framed me. Finally, I gave a sullen, “There wasn’t,” and folded my arms.

  “It never would’ve happened if I were free,” he declared.

  I scoffed at that. “Are you my guardian angel?”

  “No. I’m your guardian demon, and if you’d taken the time to understand me, then maybe you wouldn’t have acted so hastily that night.”

  He was talking about the night of his arrest, when I’d tricked him with a kiss, distracting him long enough to be magically bound, allowing the Guard to move in and capture him. I levelled him with a serious look. “Tell me what I should’ve understood.”

  “That sometimes there is no good and bad. Sometimes there’s only bad and worse.”

  “Are you saying you’re the lesser evil? As opposed to what?”

  “As opposed to the people who do bad things for no reason at all. Many of them are housed in this very prison. When I do a bad thing, it’s for a good reason.”

  A small shiver ran through me. “I don’t believe you.”

  There was a glimmer in his eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re just not ready to admit it.”

  The shiver increased. I needed to change the subject. “Tell me about Sarasin’s Midnight. What exactly is it?”

  Vasilios tutted. “Curiosity killed the elephant.”

  “What?” I frowned. “That’s not how the saying goes. It’s killed the cat.”

  “Dammit,” he muttered. “The spell I cast to learn your language has a few kinks in it. Sometimes I get your idioms wrong. Anyway, my point is, you’ll do well to steer clear of the fucked-up rituals of this place.”

  Rituals? Now I really wanted to know. “If that’s true, then why are you going?”

  “Because I’ve avoided it long enough.”

  “So,” I surmised, “it’s a ritual that prisoners perform?”

  He shook his head. “Not specifically. It’s ritualistic in the sense that it happens once a month. Really, Darya, it’s not something you’d ever be interested in attending, so it’s better if you know as little as possible about it.”

  “How do you know I wouldn’t be interested?”

  He surveyed me briefly, then replied, “Because you’re too smart.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  “I am, but sometimes gazing upon the beauty of the blade is worth the risk of being cut.”

  I threw my hands up. “Okay, now I don’t understand at all.”

  “Just take your shower so that we can return to our cells before anyone notes our absence.”

  “I already told you, I’m not showering, so we might as well—” A sudden weakness overcame me, and I had to sit down. I felt woozy. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so starved for blood in my life. It didn’t matter how much regular food I ate. The need for blood ached in my veins, a horrible scratchy sensation just under the surface of my skin. Vasilios peered at me in concern and moved to sit beside me on the bed. I bristled at his proximity, and he definitely noticed.

  “You’d think I was the one who hadn’t bathed in days,” he commented harshly.

  “Can you blame me for being distrustful?” I countered. “You pretended to be my friend for weeks, acted like this whole other person. I’m sorry, but that’s not something I can just forget.”

  He held my gaze a moment, some kind of resolution forming in his eyes. “Then I’ll have to work hard to make a better impression,” he said before continuing. “Starting with providing you with the blood you very obviously need.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Thank you, but no.”

  “Darya, you almost keeled over right in front of me just now. You need to be strong in this place.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and I practically leapt off the bed.

  “Don’t ever touch me,” I warned, unable to disguise my genuine reaction to him. If I wanted to complete my mission faster, then I should play along and let him get close. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very good at ignoring my natural instincts, and those instincts told me to keep my guard up around Vasilios.