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“There’s the Black Widow Room, Winter’s Well, Scarecrow Show, and The Hunt.”
I crack my neck, forcing myself to get it under control. The names set me on edge, and this woman talks so damn slow. It’s a recipe to set me on a murderous streak.
“Explain. Each. One.”
Helga Bee snorts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep your knickers on! I’m getting to it.” She picks something out of her crooked teeth. “Black Widow Room is a place in the prison where a female inmate is given malrose grass to put them in the mood. They’re laid out on a table in front of a group of soldiers. The grass gets them so wet and wrangled that they tickle their fancy just to relieve the crazed horniness!”
My brain stops working. “Excuse me?”
“Not a bad time to scurry your furry! Amiright, Gerta?” She bumps her large grandma elbow into Gerta’s side. Gerta blushes, winking at Niles. He doesn’t even look up.
Warrose stops his pacing to look at me, one eyebrow raised, mouth parting slowly.
“Hell no!” He stomps up to Helga Bee, putting both hands on his head. “Tell me that’s the least likely of scenarios. Something like that happens, and you can pretty much guarantee this man will burn this prison to the ground with all of us inside it.”
“Relax, Donut Boy. The Commander isn’t of the perverted type in the Breed. He likes a good show. Likes a good beating.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Donut Boy?” Warrose narrows his eyes.
“What punishment would he generally lean toward then?” I ask.
Helga Bee shrugs. “I’d say either Winter’s Well or The Hunt. And if he’s in a real bad mood, maybe both.”
“I really don’t think so!” Ruth chimes in. “He really looked like he wanted to help her.”
I open my mouth to bite her head off for being this stupid; anger burns the pit of my stomach, but Kane stops me.
Not a word to her, man. She’s family. Focus.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Explain Winter’s Well.”
She groans like a child. “Why? It’s going to happen anyway. No use in fussin’!”
“Listen—”
Someone’s shoulder bumps into me, a quick shove. I dart my eyes to the intruder, seeing golden hair and scarred-over skin that has been licked by vicious flames.
Niles gets in Helga Bee’s face, wearing an expression I have never seen before on him.
“Answer the fucking questions. That’s my sister you’re talking about. And we don’t leave family behind.” There is no humor, no playful smirk. Only eternal fire raging behind his unhinged gaze.
Helga Bee takes a small step back, blinking in surprise.
“It’s a well. Cold as shit, with a little bit of nasty old pipe water at the very bottom. Prisoners are left to freeze down there until they’re near frostbite stages.” She cocks her head away from Niles, but he doesn’t move.
“And The Hunt?”
“You see those prisoners with cages on their heads and no ears? Big as ogres?”
I nod, exchanging a look with Warrose. The same one that trudged along at night, curious about Ruth in her cage.
“They’re actually the vile product of generational brother-sister fuckin’! Called Blood Mammoths. Deep in the West Vexello Mountains, they’re bred and taught to hunt, kill, and abduct Vexamen Breed soldiers for sport. They’re bloodthirsty as fuck! When they’re imprisoned by The Commander and his special team of elite, they cut off their ears, put a cage on their heads so they can’t bite anyone. Side note, the bacteria on their teeth is deadly if they take a chomp out of your neck.”
I look up at the high ceilings, covered in cobwebs, stained with black smoke. Could this get any worse?
“The inmate that’s on the chopping block gets thrown into the prison at night, stripped down to their birthday suit, and forced to run from the Blood Mammoths until sunrise. Once those dumb ogres get the scent of their skin, hair, or blood, they become enraged with finding ’em.”
