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Past him, Will sits hunched over on one of the benches, looking smaller, more frail than I remember. Or maybe it’s just by comparison he appears that way. Starvation has taken its toll, evident in the gaunt narrowing of his face and bones sticking out where there used to be muscle.
Keeping his head low, Will doesn’t acknowledge me, as Remus leads me to the opposite side of the courtyard, toward a doorway for another, much smaller building.
“Did I ever tell you what happened to the last one who was in your place?”
“No.” I wonder if I’m about to find out, though.
“From Szolen, too. Not a Daughter, though. Nowhere near as pure as you, but an outcast. Feisty as they come. A redhead, you know. I prefer blondes, but it’s not as if I have much to choose from out here.”
The past tense he uses gives me the impression she’s dead. “She was from Szolen? My age, then?”
“About, yes. We found her hiding out in a hive, where we attempted to secure trade. She, apparently, escaped her transport to the convent.”
How unfortunate for her. I’m guessing she might’ve fared best in a hive. I hear they’re mostly families, who aren’t known for taking in wanderers, but maybe her being female offered some advantage.
“Does the name Lindsay James ring a bell?”
The sound of her name sends tendrils of ice down my spine. Mother Chilson first spoke of her on the day I was to be sentenced for clocking Father Parsons. Lindsay James is a name thrown around the church, as an example of what happens to properly reformed girls. The story was, she seduced one of the married Legion officers, much like Gwen, and after months in the convent, she was granted her freedom to return to Szolen. According to Mother Chilson, she declined, and decided to pursue her religious vows to become a nun. I can still see the pride beaming in Mother Chilson’s eyes as she spoke of the girl.
“What happened to her?”
He steps away from the door behind him, and I hesitate at first, shooting him a confused glance, before stepping forward. Through the small barred window, I find an empty room.
Frowning, I shake my head. “I don’t see anything.”
He lurches forward, making me step aside, and he peers through the window. “Oh. Right. That’s why I brought bait.”
The moment his words reach my ears, my eyes dart to the bird in his hand, but before I can stop him, he shoves the small wren through the metal bars of the window.
Heart pounding in my chest, I dash toward the door and find my wounded bird hopping around the concrete. “Open the door. Please, now.”
“I don’t think you want me to do that.” A breath later, a figure crawls out from somewhere below, where it must’ve been tucked against the wall closest to us. On hands and knees, a bony form stalks after the bird that hops to get away.
“No! Leave her alone!”
When the figure twists toward me, I notice her eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated to look like the gaze of a demon. The same eyes I stared at back at the cave, with the Rager looming over me. She hisses and clicks before turning her attention back on the bird, which continues to hop away for its life. In one quick move, she snatches it up, teeth tearing away at its wings, while the bird squawks and struggles. Horror seizes my breath, watching the female Rager consume the helpless bird, and I don’t realize how tightly I’m clutching the bars in the window, until the burn hits my knuckles. In spite of my aching heart that prods me to turn around and attack him for his brutality, my head warns me to swallow back that rage. Choke it down. This isn’t a man who forgives, and showing any emotion might further incite his cruelty.
It’s when the figure plops back onto her bottom that I notice the bulging belly sticking out.
“She’s … pregnant?”
“Oh, it’s not mine.” Remus chuckles, crossing his arms. “It’s my uncle’s child. I believe you met him down in solitary.”
“Your uncle?”
“He was bitten a long time ago. We sort of commandeered this place from him. He was warden here when the world went to shit. As I understand, he set the prisoners free and made this place his own fortress against the Ragers. My sister and I didn’t have the heart to kill him off after he was bitten by one.”
The more he talks, the more questions he stirs.
“Your sister?”
“Agatha.”
What the hell.
Tightening my jaw is a poor attempt to school my face while he seems to be watching for my reaction. “So, you …. You gave Lindsay to your uncle?”
“Agatha did this. She stuck her in the cell with him, and he just went wild. Breeding her for days on end.” For the briefest moment, there’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes, as if he himself didn’t want this for the woman. “My siblings and I … we had a very volatile life as children.”
