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And she knows it.
But I need her to hope… so I stand up, taking my glass with me, and stalk slowly to her side of the table. She leans her head back as I position myself behind her.
I use my thumb to pry open her mouth.
Her lips tremble.
I tilt the glass and drop the warm deep red liquid onto her tongue.
She comes as she swallows it down. She shudders, and it disgusts me.
When she rests her head on my chest and coos, “Ink Heart,” I let her stay there. Because her hope will be our salvation. And I need to get Nova out of here, and as far away from England as possible.
12
KOLE
Zephyra holds my hand tightly as we move from the throne room, back into the tunnels, to another sprawling set of smaller ones.
She turns the lock on a heavy metal door and pushes it open.
Inside, warmth hits me.
Candles are lit around the room. The walls are clad with what looks like velvet wallpaper, dark and decadent. The scent of blood hangs thick in the air.
Zephyra glides inside and opens her arms.
I am struggling to take in what I’m seeing.
On either side of the room sit three contraptions that look like a cross between a chair and a bed. A human is fixed to each one with large leather straps pinning down their arms, legs, and heads.
“We have scaled up our operation since you were last here, Ink Heart.” Zephyra walks over to a woman in one of the closest contraptions. An almost silent machine sits beside her… draining her blood.
Next to the machine, a conveyor belt of small glass vials churn slowly passed. Each one is filled to the top then slowly carries on its way through a portal in the wall opposite.
The vials are ornate.
Zephyra really has upped her game.
“We ferment it in one of the rooms downstairs,” she says. “I had several built below the tunnels.”
“You did that quickly.”
“We worked through the night,” she quips. “And we’re fast workers.”
The woman in front of me looks like she’s half dead. Her skin is almost translucent, her lips blue. “This one is nearly finished,” Zephyra shouts.
A stocky male vampire appears from the doorway at the back.
“I told you to make sure they are regularly rotated.” She spits. “The reason this works is that we don’t have to take them off the streets anymore. But that means we have to keep them alive.”
“We have twenty,” the vamp replies. “One less won’t make a difference. And this one tastes bad. Customers are complaining.” He looks the woman up and down then inexplicably spits in her face. “Filthy whore. Probably riddled with—”
He does not finish speaking before Zephyra whirls around, grabs a sword from the wall, and slices off his hand.
Blood spurts all over the woman, who is now screaming.
The vamp drops to his knees, clutching his bloody stump in front of him.
