But when monsters like Davor existed, ones who knew the lines, and carefully skirted them while finding the ways he could hurt you without bringing on the wrath of your true master, there would be suffering.
Could I allow that to continue? Now, knowing what I know?
I wasn't sure I could.
"This is a lovely house, don't you think?" Irina asked, reaching out, absentmindedly running her hand down the leg of her vanity chair.
The wooden leg of her vanity chair.
"It is. So much lovely furniture," I agreed, mind starting to race.
I could take a leg from somewhere, shave it down to a point, hide it somewhere on my body, then go to Davor when he called for me. I could wait until he was distracted by poking his fangs into my neck.
Then I could strike.
I could end him.
I could take away the potential for generations of abuse.
I was no hero.
I believed that about myself.
I wasn't big or strong or fast or skilled in any sort of fighting.
But you didn't need to be a hero to do what you knew in your soul was right when you had the means and opportunity to do it.
Really, it didn't even take a hell of a lot of courage.
Just the determination to make sure no one ever felt themselves wasting away like I'd been forced to.
"Renwick says the drugs will still be in my system for four days."
"Aren't bearded biker guys with dirty minds sometimes... immortal?" she asked.
"Yeah," I agreed. "But I believe they do feel pain," I added.
"I think we are all much more resilient than we realize."
That was true. It might be a couple days of torment for him, but he would live. And I would be able to carry out my plan for the greater good of all.
I didn't know if Drex would be in on the plan. I mean, demons were selfish creatures. Maybe he wouldn't care about the generations of women I might be saving by taking the extra time to take out Davor.
But maybe he would be okay with it just because it was important to me. He seemed to care about what mattered to me.
Did I understand why that was?
No.
But I believed it was true.
"Have you been able to sleep? Maybe getting some is a good idea. Keep your mind right."
I found myself agreeing with Irina. I took a shower, got into bed, and attempted to sleep.
But my dreams were plagued with images of Drex chained in a basement and being tormented by Renwick and his people.
I ended up waking up with the first streaks of sunlight, unrested, but too wired to sit still. Irina had just gone to bed a little while before. And the house was quiet.
I couldn't put my plan into action yet, but that didn't mean I couldn't take advantage of the hour or so before the staff started to arrive.
Barefooted, I made my way down to the lower level, opening up any closed curtains to make sure the sun shone in all the dark corners, making it impossible for any of the vampires to come down to the main level while I rushed around toward the garage where the stairs for the basement were situated.
I found two deadbolts, a chain, and a bar across it. No keyless entry.
Heartbeat starting to speed up, I quickly undid the locks, found something to prop the door open with, then started making my way downward.
It wasn't until I was about halfway down that I started to worry that maybe Drex wasn't going to be the only prisoner in the basement.
But even if he wasn't, surely they'd be chained, right?
"No," a deep, familiar voice said, drawing my attention to the side. "For fuck's sake, babe, get out of here," Drex demanded.
I moved toward the sound, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the lower light.
"Are you okay?" I asked, finally moving in front of him, finding his arms spread wide with heavy shackles around his wrists connected to giant stakes in the cinderblock walls. "Did they... oh," I exhaled, feeling my heart sink at the nearly swollen-shut eye.
My hand raised, reaching for his face, wincing when he winced.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Now leave. What the fuck are you doing down here?"
"I needed to see you," I told him as my hand roamed down his cheek, over his jaw, then down his neck.
"No, you didn't."
"You saved me," I reminded him.
"It's not the same, Nova. The risks are different."
"Because I can die," I guessed.
"Yes."
"They can hurt you."
"Yeah," he agreed. "But that was a risk I knew I was taking."
"Do you know how I can open these?" I asked, my hand gliding over his shoulder, down his arm, touching the rusted shackle at his wrist.
"The key," he said, letting out a humorless chuckle.
"But can they... be picked?"
"Do you know how to pick a lock?"