“The path of the righteous?”
“The path of the forsaken. It’s more interesting than that of the righteous.”
She laughed. It was an answer she might’ve given herself. When Ja had approached him, he hadn’t needed to do his homework on her. Before she’d semi-retired, he’d watched her maneuverings, surprised when she’d taken a step back, not at all surprised when she’d burst back onto the scene.
“Why are you here?” he asked her. “She is not with you, so clearly it is not to let her out.”
“Oh my, no. If I did, how would she learn?” She laughed again and continued forward. “Good luck, Mr. Shadow. I’m sure I will see you again.”
He rather hoped not.
He shut and locked the door behind him and then hastened down the hall, flitting through the shadows. A guard lay dead in the center of the floor behind two cells, the prisoners within long since dead, nothing but bones now. The neck of the guard had been torn out. Ja had wanted to make a show, ensure the elves knew a vampire had been down there.
He slowed for a moment.
Had Ja known he would be coming to rescue Reagan? If so, she might be trying to set the stage to make it look like the vampires were the ones who’d broken in, killed everyone, and then rescued the prize.
No, that couldn’t be it. She hadn’t known right away who was waiting in the shadows. If she’d been expecting him, she wouldn’t have paused for so long. She was not a showy vampire, like Vlad, but all vampires liked to play with their food. It was in their nature. She would’ve made a quip or two about being way ahead of him.
…how would she learn?
He shook his head and continued on. He was not clever enough to figure this out, not with so little information.
A man sat in the last cell on the right, ribs clearly showing and wiry muscle lining his nude form. He sat hunched over propped-up knees, his head hanging low.
Another guard lay half in and half out of the doorway up ahead, the door standing open. Heavy wooden doors lined the other side of the hallway, closed off, darkened, single-person cells designed for confusing the mind. Food would come at random times, sleep would be interrupted, random water tossed in, and the prisoner would be kept in continual darkness unless he or she was being tortured. That treatment would break someone. Most of the time, anyway.
“Hey,” Cahal whispered, revealing himself to the man in the cell.
The man didn’t move, staring at nothing.
“Hey,” Cahal repeated, raising his voice.
Still the man didn’t look around. Spit dribbled out of the side of his mouth. His mind was gone. He wouldn’t have noticed the vampire, probably, and if he had, he likely didn’t have enough sense to coherently remember what she’d done here.
Cahal moved on, stepping over the guard and quickly checking behind him. There shouldn’t be a change-out for another hour, at least. Food had come not long ago. The torturers had already been here twice. He should have a big window here, but one could never be too sure.
Within the second part of the dungeon, he had to but smell his way to the cell he needed, following the scent of fresh blood in the stagnant air. Last door on the left, charred and leaning awkwardly, with a few chunks taken out at the bottom and a hole burrowed through the top. They didn’t look like escape attempts, but the result of a temper.
“Reagan,” Cahal whispered, no idea what he might find beyond that door. Not really wanting to find out, if he was being honest. He’d been tortured for a year, but never with such vigor. He didn’t know if he could stand seeing her like the man in the other cell. “Reagan?”
“Knock, knock…” came the reply.
He heaved a sigh of relief.
“Who’s there?” he answered, working at the lock with his tools. He didn’t want the elves to know what manner of creature had broken in. When he locked it back up after they left, there would be zero evidence of how she’d gotten out.
Except for the dead bodies with their necks torn out by a vampire.
He paused and looked down at the lock. Once he’d been good at this. He was clearly rusty. He was helping Ja frame vampires…if that was what she’d set out to do.
“Orange.” Her voice was weak and scratchy. He could barely hear her through the wood.
“Orange who?” The lock clicked over.
He dropped one of his tools on the ground. They’d now know it was a burglar, not a vampire. That would confuse them a little. Maybe upset Ja’s plans. She was too cunning for her own good. All vampires were, but she was worse than most. Her intelligence made him feel like an amateur.