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“I don’t care,” Cy managed. Let Merick continue to hurt him. Let him continue to do his worst. It would be over eventually. Whether with his death or otherwise. Merick would grow tired of him and choose to dispose of him. But at least he could say he didn’t give anything up. He didn’t betray Jax and the Veritas. The hope of humanity.
A door creaked open. Cy looked up as a slim body all dressed in black stepped into view. Thorne.
“Has our prisoner said anything?”
Merick’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Not yet.”
“Even though you’ve been so busy.” Thorne approached, his cold eyes spanning the lengths of Cy’s broken body.
“He’s stubborn.”
“I’m disappointed, Merick. I thought you had more persuasion than this. It’s obvious pain doesn’t affect this one.”
“My Lord? What do you suggest?”
“He’s a human. He cares aboutinnocents.Others he feels empathy for. Empathy and the quest for power are the two biggest downfalls of humanity. I think I have just the thing to get our hero to talk.”
Thorne glanced behind him toward the open doorway, and with a snap of his fingers, a small, diminutive form was led inside. Cy’s throat tightened. The sight he saw was that of a ghost: a phantom back from the dead. It hurt. It hurt so badly.
Wren.
Still so innocent and cherubic, but with bright red eyes. Cy’s heart broke. The little boy trembled when he walked into the room, glancing around until his gaze fell on Cy. He gasped, a tiny little squeak that fell from his lips.
“Do you know this human, sweet one?” Thorne placed a hand on the back of Wren’s thin neck.
Wren’s eyes widened. He swallowed as if unsure how to respond. He was terrified.
“Please, my Lord. May I see my master? Where is Lord Garrison?”
“You’ll be allowed to go back to Lord Garrison in due time, Wren. But first, you must answer my questions. Do you know this human?”
“His name is Cy. He’s a pet. He taught me how to read. What’s happened to him?” His voice was tight. He held a hand to his mouth.
“What do you know about Cy? Did he tell you anything about the Veritas?”
Again, the little yip that told Cy he didn’t want to speak. “I...I don’t…”
“Come now, Wren. I think you do know. I think Cy told you some things he shouldn’t have. What did he tell you?”
Wren met Cy’s eyes. Pleading for help. Begging forgiveness. He stood there, a child among monsters. A vampyre. But still a child. Cy couldn’t let this go on.
“Leave him out of this,” Cy growled.
Thorne smirked. “Didn’t I tell you, Merick? Humans are weak with empathy. Our Cypress was fond of this boy when he was human. Even now, he’ll become pliable to protect him.”
Cy gritted his teeth. “I don’t have anything to tell. Please, don’t hurt the boy.”
Thorne ignored him, instead peering down at Wren. “Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve fed, sweet one?”
Wren squirmed in discomfort.
“Are you hungry?” Thorne leaned forward to peer into Wren’s face. “You know, I told your Master he was to withhold blood precisely for this moment. Would you like some blood, love? I can give you some of mine. Or perhaps you want some of Cypress’s?”
Wren bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t want to...I don’t want to drink from Cypress.”
“No? But I’ve been told that his blood is simply divine…”
“He’s my friend,” Wren whispered. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
