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“873 miles,” the woman said. She shook out her dark, curly hair. She was short and stocky, with a necklace of shiny rings tied on a leather cord. “You alright carrying your friend? Or we can give her some elixir.”
I’d thought Camina to be unconscious, but she sniffed her head up, her startled eyes rimmed with red.
“We’ve got it,” I said, feeling guilty. Had anyone even offered her some before this moment? Had I thought about her at all? She’d been attacked and fed on, but she’d had a lot of elixir before, too. I pulled out the remains of my stash, just a few drops at the bottom of an empty vial.
I waited for Camina to tilt her head back, but instead she snapped the vial from my hand. It was the last of my elixir, but I didn’t refuse. She clenched it in her fist, like she was prepared to fight me for it. Part of me wanted to respond with violence, like a dog fighting for scraps. But I knew it was just the thirst, and it was going to get a whole lot worse.
I started to say something, but the words died in my throat. I didn’t trust our new companions, and this wasn’t the place to argue. I took a deep breath and turned around.
“We’re good,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Our guides led us across the bridge, which was little more than steel wires and crossbars, before stepping onto the dark balcony of the tallest building. We crossed down the hall and passed some kind of waiting area. From here we had a view of the whole space below—a modern street filled with neon lights and activity, flashing signs, cars driving and honking, and hundreds of people walking openly through the night.
I waited for them to ask for our weapons, but they never did. We didn’t have much to begin with, only what we’d been able to hang on to during our escape. We followed them down a flight of stairs, to a hall lined with doors. One of the men used a key and pushed the entrance open.
“You’ll need to stay here until you’ve met with Augustine.”
“Is he the ruler here?” Trevor asked.
“We have no rulers, or leaders,” the woman said.
“But he’s an elite, isn’t he?”
“We don’t call them that,” she frowned.
I shrugged as they showed us our rooms. They were small but comfortable, with the softest sheets and mattresses I’d ever felt, almost better than the citadel; even though they were thin and old. The rest of the rooms were minimally furnished, with a desk, a lamp and a bathroom. The walls were cracked and chipped, and it had a vaguely musty smell of ancient rotting wood and bleach, like it had been cleaned recently. A painting of the sea hung above the bed.
“The minibar fridge is full of snacks and drinks,” the man said. “Should keep you alive for now.”
Trevor frowned at them as they closed the door. “So what, we’re just supposed to stay in here?”
I heard the door lock and Trevor pounded against it.
“You need rest,” the woman said through the door. “Besides, your companions have drunk too much elixir. The signs of the thirst are already apparent. Tomorrow is going to be very rough, and we can’t risk letting you into the city until you’re in control of yourselves. I suggest you get some sleep.”
And that was it. I listened to their footsteps fade away down the hall, and then we were alone. I hated being locked in, but I didn’t have the energy for another fight. We’d either been rescued, or kidnapped. I wasn’t sure whether the difference mattered. I curled up on the bed, my muscles aching, my eyes dry. It felt like the world was spinning around me. I don’t know how we decided to divide up the rooms, it just sort of happened. Luke went with Camina, and Trevor stayed with me. If both rooms were like ours, that meant a loveseat too small to spread out on, and a king-sized bed that was plenty—at least for Trevor and me, who were comfortable with each other. We slept for a few hours. Just deep enough for the hint of a nightmare, which vanished without a trace, apart from a rush of useless adrenaline. When I woke up again Trevor was on the floor, shivering, and I was sweating under the pile of blankets he’d left for me.
I pulled one up to his chin, wiping the sweat off his brow. I didn’t even think he’d had much elixir, and I was worried about him. We didn’t even know how much he could handle. In slagpaw form it took a great deal to shift him back, but the same levels in a human would be recklessly dangerous. Is that what happened to Jazmine—she wasn’t thinking clearly? She acted on impulse? But if she hadn’t shot Bryce, we might have lost Camina instead. And she knew the risks.
Camina had probably drunk the most, but the elixir would have been consumed healing the wound in her neck from Bryce’s attack. Her hangover would last longer, because she’d topped off the remains of my vial when we arrived. For some reason, I yearned for the little monitor April had made me, or even the fancy one of gold and diamonds I’d gotten as a royal wedding gift.
It was a tool, to see inside myself, and measure just how much humanity was left. I used to count each drop of elixir carefully. I wasn’t even sure how much I’d consumed yesterday. I vaguely remembered drinking Damien’s blood, extracted with needles and tubes. And even still, I’d almost been defeated by a wily curate.
So far, apart from a headache, and the aches in my joints and muscles, I wasn’t feeling too badly. I searched the fridge, finding several bottles of water. Someone had writtenelectrolyteson it in black marker, and it tasted like salt and sugar.
In a brown paper bag were half a dozen hard-boiled eggs, strips of battered fried chicken, and even little apple tarts. I ate a third of everything and left the rest for Trevor, then I checked out the bathroom. It was small, with a working toilet and shower.
I flinched at my own reflection when I turned on the light. The rain had washed off some of the blood and grime, but my clothes felt stiff around my body, and my eyes were stained with the dark coal eyeliner Jazmine had applied the night before—or was it two nights ago? It dripped down my cheeks. Parts of my gown had been sliced through, and I found white lines where cuts had healed. New scars I could barely remember earning. The mirror was cracked, and missing portions. A section was held together by tape, so I had to move around to study my fractured self.
Part of me questioned the austerity of it, compared to our treatment in the other compounds. This building must have had hundreds of rooms. Was this the best our hosts had to offer? Or was this a sign that we were considered more hostages than esteemed guests?
I turned on the water and waited, holding my breath until I saw the steam, then peeled off my clothes and stepped into the tub, sliding the glass door shut behind me.
The hot water was invigorating, but my legs began to feel shaky after standing on them for only a few minutes, so I plugged the bathtub and pumped the plastic container of body wash until the water became murky and full of bubbles. Then I brought my knees up to my chin, sitting in the ankle-deep water, letting the scalding shower assault my back and shoulders, rinsing the sins of battle from my body.
How much of my life could be measured by hot showers? In Algrave, they were for special occasions, at least for us, since electricity was metered. I’d gotten used to preferring cold showers anyway. In the citadel, daily showers had been an imposition, then a luxury. But in the last few weeks…
I mentally tried to tally them all. Since leaving the citadel, where had I been, what had I seen?
