Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I feel his eyes on me. I don’t care. He can stare all he wants. I’m memorizing every second of this, every moment, every change in the black walls of the elevator shaft, every stutter of the cables.
When we come to a stop, I sway on my feet.
With a quick pull he opens the grate, then moves forward into the darkness beyond. I can’t see anything. No light, no way through.
I almost call his name. Almost. Instead, I step hesitantly forward. “Where—” I gasp as light explodes in front of me.
Flinching back, I slap a hand across my eyes. But I also feel a breeze, fresh air against my skin. My eyes water. I can’t be sure if it’s from the light or the relief. Outside. I’m outside.
“Come, little rabbit.” Valen’s voice brushes past me. “But be wary of the snare.”
I walk forward, unable to see where I’m going, but moving toward the light. A moth. One who longs to be burned. When the sun touches my face, I breathe in deeply. It’s warm, the air slightly damp as if just after a rain.
The ground is soft beneath my feet, my simple slip-on shoes sinking into the turf a little.
Squinting, I look down to find tufts of grass. Bright green and alive. Saturated with color. A tear drops, falling straight to the ground as I step forward again and again.
My vision finally comes back, and I realize it’s a cloudy day. The sky overhead is a sullen gray, the sun hidden in billowing clouds that threaten rain.
It’s the most beautiful day I can remember.
Valen stands with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him.
We’re in a garden, one that hasn’t been tended in quite some time. Roses grow wildly in beds overcome with weeds. The grass shoots up in clumps and patches interspersed with bits of muddy terrain. A fountain is farther along, no water running through it, though a dragon’s head sits atop it, its eyes grown over with moss. Far beyond the garden, a line of trees blocks out any view of the world except the top of a ridge in the distance, the cusp of it swathed in low clouds.
The wind, though, is crisper, possibly promising cooler weather. Is summer already over? How long have I been trapped underground? The trees are still green, though some of them are turning golden at the edges. I’ve lost time. So much of it.
Where am I? I don’t recognize anything here. Only sky and earth. And I’m grateful for it. I step forward, weaving around the mud puddles despite being almost overcome with the desire to splash in them. Everything is so open, so wide and free it’s almost oddly oppressive. The sky goes on forever. So different from where I’ve been for the past months.
“This is …” I spin, my eyes on the sky. “This is wonderful.”
“Don’t mistake this for kindness, little rabbit.” Valen turns his head slightly, giving me his sharp profile. “I need you healthy for the time being.”
“I would never make that mistake.” I stop and breathe in deeply, savoring everything the wind has to offer. Then I stride past him, dodging around a tangle of vines that have taken over what used to be some sort of arbor. Withered flower blooms hang from it, all of them drooping under their own weight. “Where are we?” It’s hard to believe an entire structure is just beneath us. Nothing up here gives any indication of it, except for this ill-kempt garden. “How has no one noticed the castle?”
“When Gregor had it constructed, this was nothing but a field in a fledgling country that he didn’t believe would last more than a decade, if that. And, of course, anyone who labored on it was silenced shortly after its completion.”
Gregor’s had his clawed hand on Washington’s pulse since its inception, yet we never knew about him. Or am I being naïve? Did the government know the vampires existed? “So we’re close to DC?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, his eyes on me as I wander from area to area.
“I suppose not.” My pants snag on a rose thorn, and I stop to disentangle myself. “I’m not sure why a vampire would need a garden, though.” A memory hits me, or perhaps more of a realization. It almost bowls me over with the force of it. “You can withstand the sun.” I turn to him, my eyes going wide. “You’re the only vampire who can. How do I know that?”
“We worked together before all this. You know that.” He says it with a bored exasperation. “Whitbine seems to have scrambled what brains you had left. Now you don’t remember a damn thing, which then leads to endless inane questions from you. Quite the vicious cycle.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Talking about Whitbine is a sure way to spoil this tiny moment of freedom.