Page 8 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

They weren't what he'd been expecting, obviously.

My feathers weren't white and silver, like most angels'. They were black, dark gray, and deep, dusty purple.

"How long ago did you fall?" he asked quietly.

"Right before I built this place."

Dante didn't react to the admission.

"There's something dried here." His fingers brushed it lightly. Now that he mentioned it, I could feel a light tug. It was in a place I could barely see, though.

"Clay, probably," I said.

There was another tug, and the weight disappeared as he pulled it free. I looked over as he rolled it between his fingers.

Definitely clay.

"You made the pottery?" he asked.

"I did. It's storing some of my power. Almost all of my magic lives in the prison, so I can't access it. If we want to get out of here, we need to keep the pottery from breaking until we're ready to go."

He nodded slowly. "What about Shiv?"

My throat constricted at the thought of seeing him again. "I'm going to have to try to teach him how to weave himself out. He still has access to his magic, right?"

"Shiv? He's got an assload of power."

"And he hasn't fallen?"

"No. He's tried hundreds of times, but he can't make it through the pain."

Yeah. I could see that.

My transformation had been so painful, I thought it was going to kill me.

"So getting him out too won't be a problem?" Dante asked.

"I wouldn't say that. There's a decent chance he tries to kill me the first moment he sees me."

If I died, the prison's magic would disappear completely. Which Shiv knew, but Dante didn't.

"I'm not letting him kill our first chance at getting out of here," the vampire said, still rolling the clay between his fingers.

I needed to change the subject. The more we talked about Shiv, the worse my stress was going to be, and I was terrible at hiding my emotions.

"Before those doors open, we need a plan," I said, putting my wings away again and pulling my overalls' straps back into place.

"We don't have many options. Do you know anything about the way this place works?"

"Magically? A little. Socially? Not at all. And to be honest, I don't socialize anyway. I'm terrible at it."

Dante nodded. "This whole prison is a social game. As far as a plan goes..." He stared at the wall for a little too long.

I waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello?"

"I'm thinking, Angel."

God, that nickname was even worse than Pixie.