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“You couldn’t even put a ribbon on us?” Cain asks.
Donovan’s face twitches, like he wants to turn around and glare at Cain, but he’s trying to maintain an air of detached dignity in front of these shades.
I don’t think the shades care all that much, but whatever floats his boat, I suppose. I’m more worried that if Cain mouths off too much, Donovan could hurt him. I wish I could nudge Cain or even speak to him, but we’re being held just far apart enough that I can’t touch any of my guys, and if I say anything, of course Donovan and the guards will hear me.
Fuck.
The shades look as though they’re trying to process this information.
“It’s to pay off my debt,” Donovan emphasizes. “Please tell your master I’m here to pay my debt. All right?”
Hmmm. Donovan’s impatience could be his undoing.
More than that, though, I’m pissed. Are you fucking kidding me? I stole from Donovan, so I had to pay him back since I owed him, and now it turns out the fucker owes someone even more powerful? It’s sickening, this cycle of power and control. This is how mobsters and people like Donovan and whoever this Roanac is are able to get so powerful. It’s beyond fucked up.
I have to stuff down my rage. Getting angry will do me no good, and it’ll just make me do something stupid. Donovan isn’t a problem anymore. I need to ignore him and figure out what’s going on and how we can possibly escape.
The shades nod and step back, allowing us to enter the castle. All around us the walls rise, the stone continuing to seemingly swallow light, twisted spikes deterring anyone from trying to scale them. I can see some other shades marching around, obviously on some kind of guard patrol. I can’t count how many there are. The shadows twist around here and it’s hard to tell what’s just a trick of the light and what’s a shade.
We enter into the castle from the courtyard. There are tattered banners and tapestries hanging from the walls. Dark patches cover the stones and wood on the floor, and I’m not really a betting person, but I’ll put down ten bucks that’s dried blood. Everything’s dark and shadowy. Only an occasional torch set into the wall lights the way.
Clearly, the creatures that live here don’t need light. Or not much of it.
Even Donovan’s guards seem a little on edge as they march us down through the castle. It’s never a good sign when mob men are nervous. We’re taken by the two shades down the corridor, through what looks like it was once a banquet hall, and then through a smaller doorway and down some steps into an antechamber.
At least it’s not the dungeons, I suppose.
“The splashes of blood were a nice touch,” Cain mutters.
I have to agree with him. Whoever lives here made this place to be as intimidating as possible. They want this place to give people the heebie-jeebies.
Well, I won’t be admitting to anything out loud, but they’re kind of succeeding.
Standing in the middle of this room, staring out one of the small windows that let in feeble light, is a giant of a man. Not a literal giant, although I’m told those do still exist in the mountains. But he’s tall and broad, intimidating just by size alone, with a square jaw and dark, flat eyes. They remind me a bit of a snake. No mercy or a hint of compassion in them.
His muscles are absolutely bulging. I don’t normally care about that kind of thing, except now I’m looking back and forth between him and Raven, who’s the bulkiest, strongest guy I know. I’m not sure that Raven could take this guy. He looks bigger even than the half-gargoyle.
That makes me nervous. I swallow and keep myself focused. We hopefully won’t have to fight this guy. I’m a thief, a burglar. I break into places. Surely I can figure out a way to breakoutof somewhere.
The man turns to look at us. I’m not even sure he is a man. Or maybe he was? But has now become something else? He’s not any supernatural creature that I can identify. He’s not a vampire, like Donovan. But he radiates power and magic all the same.
This has to be Roanac.
“What have you brought me?” Roanac asks, striding over. He’s wearing what seems to be medieval inspired clothing. I’m not an expert on historical outfits, but he wouldn’t look out of place at a Renaissance Fair. And it’s all in dark red, like blood.
“He’s really committed to the aesthetic,” Cain murmurs.
I have to swallow a laugh.
“I have brought you the thing that will free me from my debt toward you,” Donovan replies.
It’s a little cocky of him, if you ask me. I wouldn’t want to speak to this guy in that tone. But if Donovan steps in it, then that might be a good thing for me. Having the two men at each other’s throats while the guys and I make our escape…
My hopes are dashed as Donovan reaches through his guards to grab me by the arm and move me forward. I don’t struggle. I don’t want to be seen as panicked or upset. I want to stay calm, or at least look like I am.
Roanac stares at me. He looks rather unimpressed. “I don’t need a servant.”
Well, that’s good to know.
