“He’d better hope he does it before I can get these tattoos off because when I do, I’m going to blast so much magic at him that he’ll be torn to pieces.”

  We continued our way down the stairs, and my thoughts went to Monica. I wondered what would happen to her over the next thirty days. Did Sarasin merely want company, or was it something more sinister? Surely it wasn’t anything good if he felt the need to wipe everyone’s memories once they left him. After all, he did call it a curse.

  “What do you think is happening to Monica right now?” I asked solemnly.

  “There’s no way of knowing. All we do know is that Sarasin doesn’t murder people. He lets everyone go at the end of their stay.”

  “Right, but there are many terrible things that can be inflicted short of death,” I said, feeling uneasy as I remembered Sarasin’s warning about the danger that hung over me. If the vision of my future was real, then it meant I survived the prison, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t endure something awful before I got out.

  “You look troubled,” Vasilios commented, and I blew out a breath.

  “I’m just thinking about something Sarasin told me before he showed me my future.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve been having these weird dreams and absences since I entered this place. I don’t know why, but I keep seeing that tree from the courtyard. The one you warned me away from. It … calls to me,” I finished in a whisper, and Vasilios stopped walking. What I said appeared to have sobered him up.

  “Calls to you how?”

  “It’s an alluring sort of call that makes me want to go to it. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do when I get there, but Sarasin said it wants my life force. He said someone’s controlling the tree, and they want me to hang myself from it just like all those others.”

  “Did he say who it was?” Vasilios asked.

  I shook my head. “He said they’ve shrouded their identity.”

  He seemed to absorb that, then started walking again, and I kept pace. “So someone in here wants to make you their next victim,” he said in a quiet voice, and an eery chill swept through me.

  “Maybe it’s good that I know they’re coming for me. I’ll be ready for them when they do.”

  He turned his head and held my gaze. “We’ll be ready for them,” he said, and I couldn’t help feeling relieved. It was nice when someone had your back, even if you used to consider that someone your mortal enemy.

  “Do you think I should say something to one of the guards? Hobbs is a dick, but maybe McClellan would be willing to investigate.”

  “There’s no point. People have been dying on that tree for years, and they’ve done nothing to prevent it. It would be easy for them to cut it down, but they don’t because they don’t care what happens to us so long as we don’t escape. You know that’s how this place operates. It’s all down to the prisoners. We live our lives in confinement, and they observe. They only come in here if someone dies and the body needs to be removed.”

  “Has that happened? Have you seen anyone die?”

  Vasilios nodded. “I was only here a week when an inmate was found hanging from that tree. That’s why I was so adamant you stay away from it. There’s bad energy there. Even my magic is repelled by it, and my power is hardly the purest.”

  I arched an eyebrow, surprised he was admitting his magic contained some darkness or grey at the very least. “Have you been thinking about what Marcel said about your father?” I asked quietly.

  Vasilios made a dismissive gesture. “Marcel is old and doddering. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Are you sure? Because he might be old, but his mind seems fairly sharp to me.”

  He grew incensed, his shoulders tensing. “Why do you care so much? Your parents allowed you to be sent here. You should have no loyalty left for them. If my father was their enemy, then you should be on his side now.”

  “That’s not exactly how it works. They’re still my parents,” I argued.

  “How can you defend them after how they’ve abandoned you?” There was a tendril of suspicion in his gaze.

  “How can you defend Theodore?” I countered, and he lost some of his steam.

  “Because he’s my father. Because he—”

  “You see. It’s not so easy to hate our parents, even when the people who knew them tell us they’d lost their mind,” I said pointedly.

  Vasilios’s eyes narrowed to slits, and I sensed his fury, but he needed to hear it. It was the only way he might ever accept that his father wasn’t someone who deserved to be held in high regard.

  We’d almost reached my cell. Vasilios didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then finally, he uttered a gruff “Goodnight, Darya” before turning and walking away.

  I walked the last few steps, entered my cell, and closed the bars. I washed my hands and face, suddenly feeling bad for being so argumentative with Vasilios about his father. It was obviously a touchy subject. After all, he was the reason I had running water, and I was thankful for that. When I lay down on the bed, it was still as uncomfortable as ever, but I was so exhausted that I immediately fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  ***

  The following day at breakfast, Vasilios was particularly frosty with me. He mostly ignored me as he conversed with Sven, who appeared intrigued by the tense atmosphere between us.

  “So, how did Sarasin’s Midnight go?” Sven asked, his yellow eyes fixed on me. “I heard you were chosen for the Gift. That was a stroke of luck.”

  “Not really,” I grumped and ate a bite of dry bread, sorely missing the culinary delights of the night before. Where were my candied apples? My perfectly seasoned green beans? The cherry tomatoes had been an explosion of taste in my mouth. Perhaps it would be worth facing Sarasin’s Curse if it meant I could stay in his greenhouse for a month and eat all the lovely vegetables he grew there.

  “You don’t believe in luck?” Sven questioned.

  “No. I just don’t consider seeing the future a lucky thing. In my case, it’s rather unlucky.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Do you suffer a particularly grisly death?”

  I shook my head.

  “Do all of your children die of famine and disease? Are you kidnapped and tortured in the basement of a psychopath? Does your house burn to the ground destroying all of your earthly possessions?”

  “No to all three. Why are you asking me this?” I replied grumpily.

  “I just thought your future must not be a very good one if you’re this unhappy about it,” Sven said, his voice matter-of-fact.

  “Oh, I see. You’re trying to teach me to look on the bright side, is that it? Well, I don’t need glass-half-full lessons from a murderer, thank you very much.”

  “Look around you. You’re surrounded by murderers. At least with me, you can have an intelligent conversation.”

  “Perhaps that’s the catch. Sarasin’s gift can be a curse, and his curse might be a gift, depending on how you want to look at it,” Vasilios interjected quietly, echoing what Lara said to me last night. He levelled his eyes at me, addressing me for the first time that morning. “What is it about your future that’s so disappointing anyway?”

  You, I thought. You are what’s disappointing about my future. I shifted my attention to the watery soup in front of me. “I don’t wish to discuss it with either of you.”

  I could feel his attention boring into me before a wave of his magic hit me like a sonic boom. A loud crack sounded from above. We looked up and saw one of the glass skylights had cracked down the middle. What the hell? It was directly above us and about to shatter when Vasilios moved like lightning, picking me up and carrying me away before blades of glass rained down on us.

  Chaos broke out as the other prisoners roared in triumph, some already attempting to climb to the ceiling and escape. Others who’d been cut by the glass raged about their injuries, and soon enough, little fights were breaking out all over the place. I could smell blood coming from every direction, and my hunger tried to take over.

  “We should get out of here,” Sven said, and Vasilios nodded.

  “How did that happen?” I asked, still a little in shock.

  “Now isn’t the time to talk about it. Let’s go,” Vasilios said, grabbing my hand and tugging me from the dining hall. The chaos was quickly escalating. More and more prisoners began fighting amongst themselves, others rioting like it was a free for all. I briefly wondered if it was somehow a part of Vasilios and Sven’s escape plan, but no, they seemed just as shocked by the skylight shattering as I was.

  We lost track of Sven as he headed toward his cell while Vasilios led me to his. Sirens began blaring around the prison, deafening us as we stepped inside Vasilios’s cell. We both stood there, endeavouring to catch our breaths, when the barred doors slid shut, and the locks clicked over. I remembered him telling me that the guards locked the cells with magic when they needed to gain control of the prisoners, but it was my first time witnessing it first-hand.

  And crap! I should be in my own cell, not Vasilios’s. I rushed to the bars, trying to shove them open, but it was no use. We were locked in, and who knew how long it would be before we were let out again. I glanced at Vasilios and found him behind me, his eyes scanning left and right, his breathing heavy. Then he looked down, checking me over. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied, and his eyes held mine. At that moment, I saw something far more shocking than the craziness that had just broken out in the dining hall. I saw real fear and genuine concern for my safety. All that time, I’d been convincing myself that Vasilios was acting, faking that he cared about me, but right then, there was no denying it. I saw it in the way he took me in, as though making sure every single part of me was unharmed. There was a realness about it that was undeniable.

  Somewhere below, I heard heavy steel doors opening and loud boots stomping inside. Lots of angry yelling and banging ensued. It broke the moment, and I was relieved by the distraction. On the inside, I was a mess of confusion, but on the outside, I managed to hold it together.

  “The prison guards have arrived,” I said. “Will I be punished if I’m found outside my cell?”

  He shook his head. “No. They’ll only want to subdue the prisoners who are causing trouble and trying to escape. So as long as you’re in here, you’ll be fine.”

  I turned to him, lowering my voice to a whisper, “Was that you? I think your magic—”

  “Cracked the skylight?” he responded quietly. “Yes, I think so, too.”

  “But how? You didn’t do it intentionally, right?”

  Vasilios frowned, stepping back and lowering himself onto his bed. “It wasn’t intentional. I think it might’ve been you, actually.”

  “What are you talking about? I barely possess a drop of magic. It can’t have been me.”

  “That’s not what I’m getting at. I was mad at you, and you were mad at me, and I think the connection between us, the mark, came a little bit more alive at that moment. It caused a surge of power that shot up and cracked the glass.”

  “Oh,” I said, still trying to make sense of it all as I sat on the other end of his bed. “About last night, I’m sorry I pushed you so hard about your father. Our relationships with our parents can be so incredibly complicated, and I have no right to demand you see yours in a certain light.”

  In all honesty, our argument had been bugging me ever since I woke up that morning. I wondered how I’d feel if someone tried to tell me my father had done terrible things and that he deserved my disdain instead of my love. Even if I knew it was true, it would be so hard to stop loving him.

  “No, I shouldn’t have reacted so angrily,” Vasilios said, frowning as he stared at the floor. “Hearing Marcel say those things … it’s difficult for me to accept them. I’ve thought a certain way for so long, and now, I’m being presented with things that should change my mind, but I’m stubborn, and a part of me simply doesn’t want to accept it.”

  He lifted his eyes, and an unexpected moment of understanding passed between us. I got what he was saying. It was difficult to shift perspectives, but he was slowly trying. At that moment, I noticed he was bleeding somewhere on his body, and my hunger awakened again. Only it was different because I knew what Vasilios’s blood tasted like, and the beast within me hungered for more. Normally, I was good at self-control, especially when it came to blood, but I’d never been that starving before. The drop Vasilios gave me was sustaining me, but the need for more was uncontainable, especially when he was so close to me and bleeding.

  My attention went to his temple. There was a small cut just below where his horn protruded. It took every ounce of strength not to pounce on him and lick the blood from his skin.

  “Darya?” he said, his throat moving as he swallowed. He obviously sensed the beast in me straining to be let free. There was a sparkle in his eyes, too, like he was completely fascinated by it.

  “You’re bleeding,” I said through gritted teeth. “On your temple.”

  He reached up, touching his fingers to the cut. They came away with blood on them, and I had to sink my nails into the bed to keep from cracking.

  “Are you—”

  “Don’t talk. Please. Just give me a minute,” I said as I inhaled deeply, rising slowly from the bed and walking to the far side of the cell. I stood by the door facing out, putting as much distance between us as possible. Gripping the cold metal bars, I endeavoured to put a leash on my hunger.

  Vasilios remained silent. Our level of the prison was relatively quiet. A few other inmates sat inside their cells, hoping to avoid the riot. Down below and up above, all sorts of madness was unfolding. Prison guards in heavy riot gear battled the inmates to subdue them and restore calm to the prison, but the drug of chaos had taken hold of the prisoners, and they were putting up a vicious fight.

  I wondered if the guards would’ve bothered coming in and intervening if it weren’t for the skylight cracking. It provided an opening for anyone to try and escape, and as Vasilios said, that was their main concern. It didn’t bother the guards if prisoners hurt other prisoners. What bothered them was the danger of inmates getting out. Outrage bubbled within me because psychologically, I felt like a prisoner, even if I wasn’t a true prisoner, and it was infuriating to think that our welfare meant nothing to them, only our confinement.

  I glanced down, stilling when I saw Mack, Vincent, and several other vampires heading directly for my cell. I watched as they discovered it empty. Vincent kicked one of the bars in frustration, and I sucked in a trembling breath. They were looking for me. More than likely, Mack had decided to take advantage of the chaos to seek revenge.

  As far as she was concerned, I’d been bestowed Sarasin’s Gift when it was meant for her. Clearly, she was eager for payback since she’d woken up during the day just to catch me unawares, the element of surprise on her side. The only advantage I would’ve had if I’d been in my cell was that it was daylight, and Mack and her vampires had to keep to the shadows.

  She looked left, then right, and just when she was about to look up, I backed out of view. I kept backing away until my legs collided with Vasilios’s knees, and I tripped, falling right onto his lap. He caught me in his arms, and then everything went to hell. My terror at what Mack had planned to do to me mingled with my hunger, and my control snapped. Suddenly, my mouth had captured his fingers, licking away the blood from when he touched his cut. He was frozen in place, that sparkle of fascination in his eyes again. The next thing I knew, my mouth was at his temple, licking away the blood there, too. I was a woman possessed.

  “Darya,” he rasped, and I felt a shudder go through him. The part of me that was enslaved to blood took over. At that moment, I had no embarrassment that I was essentially licking his forehead. All I knew was I felt like I might die if I didn’t.

  I was so enraptured by the blood that I barely noticed anything else. I was vaguely aware of Vasilios speaking in Oreylian and his hands drifting over my hips. I was lost in a fugue. My vision was all in red. Then the mist cleared, and I came to my senses. What on earth am I doing?! I opened my eyes and found Vasilios staring at me with a hooded gaze. His eyes lingered on my lips and throat, and a faint butterfly flitted through me.

  No. That was wrong. Very wrong.

  16.

  I dashed to the other end of the cell, as far away as I could get from him. My breathing was erratic, and I could still taste his blood in my mouth. It was so incredibly delicious I could hardly stand it. Why couldn’t he taste sour and terrible like the demons from my realm?

  Embarrassment flooded in. How mortifying that I was locked in with him. I couldn’t even leave and escape the awful shame of what I’d just done.

  “I’m sorry. I lost control. I shouldn’t have done that,” I said in a strained voice, unable to meet his eyes.

  Vasilios cleared his throat. “You don’t need to apologise. I know you’re hungry.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Besides, I didn’t exactly not enjoy that.”

  The statement hung in the air. My eyes shifted to his as he fought a smirk. I looked away, wishing for the floor to swallow me whole.

  “Oh, God. Shut up. I’m so embarrassed,” I groaned, bashing my head against the metal bars. Down below, Mack and her vampires were gone from my cell. Now, I just had to worry about when they might strike next.

  I sensed movement behind me, and suddenly Vasilios was there, his hands on my shoulders as he pulled me away from the bars. “Don’t be embarrassed. That might be the most fascinating thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Please, stop. Let’s never talk of it again.”

  “Darya, will you just look at me for a second?”

  “No,” I whined. “In fact, I might never be able to look you in the eye ever again.”

  He gave a low, amused chuckle, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I’d sat in his lap, licking his forehead like an eager kitten. I sucked the blood from his fingertips! If that wasn’t the most humiliating thing I’d ever done, then I didn’t know what was.