“If they’re following the typical Midnight protocol…” I scratched behind my eye patch and shrugged. “They’ll likely beat the hell out of them, lock them up in close quarters, starve them for a few days, and then—when they’re good and feral, rotting from the inside out, they’ll load them into wagons and dump them over the wall.”
“Into Beggar’s Moat?” she asked with a horrified gasp.
“Ghouls gotta eat too,” I said plainly. “Same as everyone else.”
“But how do ghouls even eat?” she asked, her eyes shining with an innocent, naked curiosity that would’ve had me grinning if not for the morbid topic—and the fact that if we didn’t find a way out of there, we’d be sharing the same fate.
Still, I answered her questions as best I could, if only to pass the time on our endless creep along the cold, black passageway. “It’s a gruesome, terrifying thing to witness, and I pray you never have to see it, which gives you an idea of how bad it is because demons don’t, as a general rule, pray.”
She smiled, a ray of light in the darkness.
“When a body is dumped into the moat,” I continued, “dead or alive, the ghouls are drawn to it at once. They swarm, fighting over the meat in their endless quest to consume. They know nothing else, Haley—just the frenzy of the feed. Then, when the last bit of flesh has been picked from the bones, and the marrow sucked dry, and every last drop of blood licked from the dirt, the ghouls fall to their knees and weep.”
“They’re begging,” she said softly. “That’s why they call it Beggar’s Moat.”
I nodded, a heavy sadness settling over me.
Midnight was a terrible place. I’d spent nearly two decades here and never had any false illusions about that.
But somehow, painting these pictures for her… It made me see it in a whole new way. Not just as a terrible place, some cruel fate heaped upon even crueler monsters and men. But as… as a home. As a place like any other.
Stripped of its violent history and all the men who’d written it in blood,everyplace had the potential to be something different, something better… if only someone wanted to make it so. Decided it. Instead, Midnight’s fae founders had turned a realm of magick and wonder and otherworldly beauty into a vicious torture chamber that left no soul untarnished, no heart unbroken.
I laced my fingers through Haley’s and squeezed, quickening our pace.
“Is that whereallthe prisoners end up, or just the Darkwinter captives?” she asked.
“It’s everyone, Haley. Everyone with the misfortune of getting caught committing whatever bullshit infraction Keradoc decides is a punishable offense. Could be you murdered someone, could be you smell a little funny that day, could be you’re just breathing too much air in his presence. If you’re unlucky enough to end up in the dungeons, you either die in a cell or you die in a fall over the wall. Either way, you’re ghoul fodder.”
She didn’t speak for a long moment, but I knew what she was thinking. I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head.
“Saint and Oona excluded,” I said, as if suddenly, after all the ill will I’d wished on them both, I needed to hear it myself. “Oona’s a high-ranking Midnight officer and Saint’s—well, he’s a snake charmer who can talk his way out of anything. As much as I want to set his ass on fire most days, I wouldn’t have left them if I thought they couldn’t escape.”
“That doesn’t mean theydidescape.”
I stopped and turned to face her, tipping her chin up until she met my gaze. “Ipromiseyou, angel. Saint is fine. I’m pretty sure this is a wasted trip—he and Oona are likely long gone by now.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. A hint of accusation still lingered behind them.
Fucking Saint. I really hope you’re okay, you asshole…
And I did hope it, too. Not just for his sake, but for mine. Call me a selfish prick, but I didn’t want to see that look in Haley’s eyeseveragain.
“Guess we’ll know soon enough,” she said, pointing ahead. “Look.”
I followed her gaze to a welcome sight—the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
There, through a small doorway and a gate rotted with age and decay, two moons shone down on a tangle of vines, trees, and flowering bushes.
And—thank the devil—the garden was empty, just as I’d suspected.
“That’s it,” I said. “Come on.”
With renewed hope, we headed out through the gate, stopping at the center of the Sanctuary before a towering fountain of two sculpted fae warriors, one carved of onyx and the other moonstone, their swords clashing in perpetual battle. Blood spilled from wounds at their necks, collecting in a pool at their feet, where it churned and bubbled in an endless dance.
“Is that… Holy shit, Jax. Is that real blood?” Haley stepped closer, but I stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“It’s the blood of the realm. No one actually knows where the blood comes from, but it never evaporates, never freezes, never stops running. It’s forbidden to touch or drink it—hence the vampire skulls.” I nodded at skulls piled around the base, their fangs still gleaming.
