Drip, drip, drip. “Mariana!” She crawled forward, wrapping her hands around the cell bars. “Mariana!” Her own voice echoed in the tunnel.
She’d only been a little girl when her parents had split. She’d used to see her father every weekend, and she’d always eagerly awaited their Saturday trip to Amrheins for burgers. Her father knew everyone, or so it had seemed. She’d liked to watch him throw his head back when he laughed over his food, washing it down with pint after pint. But sometimes his face changed too quickly, as if all the laughter had been for show.
It wasn’t until she’d seen the arrest on TV that she knew what he did for work—that it was her father who’d buried that man in the shallow grave on the beach. And then, with some kind of bargain, he was out in five years. Fiona had never seen him again. The image of that swollen, faceless body invaded her thoughts whenever her father was mentioned. Amazing that someone could laugh over burgers one day, and hold a shotgun to the back of someone’s head the next.
She rose. “Mariana!” Her voice was ragged with hysteria. She couldn’t purge her mind of the dead man’s ragged face cavity.
Maybe that was what drew her to Jack, to Tobias. The murder in my blood. “Mariana!”
But there was no answer. Only more footsteps and muffled shouts echoing through the tunnels. Are they coming for me again? She scooted away from the door, her hand brushing something soft. Her heart hammered hard against her ribs. A body.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Fiona
Her first thought was that she’d been locked up with a corpse. Mom will be here soon. She should have arrived already.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see the slow rise and fall of a chest. She squinted into the shadows, just making out smooth black hair and ragged dark clothes. Mariana.
She reached out to touch her friend’s arm, when a deep scream erupted from the tunnel. An unnatural, otherworldly scream. Tobias.
“Shut up, witch!” a deep voice barked, and a thudding sound cut the wail short. The footsteps drew closer, along with the choking and gasping sounds of a struggle. The behemoth came into view. He was holding his chalice aloft and muttering, just like he had in the attic.
Fiona’s heart stopped as two smaller guards dragged Tobias into the light, his hands bound behind his back. His shirt was ripped through the front, his jacket lost along the way. Purgators’ dust coated his skin, but she could already see bruises growing beneath it.
Fiona gripped the bars, staring at the guards. “You need to let me out. My mother is supposed to be picking me up. She won’t find me in here.”
The behemoth erupted into a wheezing laughter as he jammed a set of keys into the lock. “Your mother is picking you up? I don’t think so, sweetie.” He clanked the lock open, and yanked open the cell door.
Fiona edged back. “You’re putting the demon in with me?” She didn’t even know what he was anymore. All she knew was that he wasn’t a normal human.
The behemoth reached down, gripping her shoulders and ramming her into the wall. He slammed his forearm into her chest, pinning her against stone. His pale eyes opened wide as he leaned into her, so close that she could smell the onions on his breath.
“Leave her alone!” Tobias yelled. His eyes blazed, but the dust snuffed out his magic. He was powerless against the guards, his skin burning from the red powder.
The behemoth ran a pale finger along her neckline, and revulsion pulsed though her.
He slipped a hand under the strap of her dress. “You’re telling me you don’t want to be locked up alone with your demon friend? I’ve seen the way you look at him.” His upper lip curled back from his teeth. “Seems a modest dress for a girl like you.” He ripped the strap off.
“Leave her—” Tobias’s demands were cut short by an arm clamping over his mouth. Fiona had a sudden desire to be a demon herself, to have access to his powers. She’d incinerate this pervert.
The behemoth’s waxy face shined in the flickering candlelight as he slipped his finger into the other strap. He ripped it off, running a hungry hand over the front of her bodice. “I look forward to watching what they do to you tonight.”
She jerked her knee up, slamming him hard in the groin. Doubling over, he lost his grip on her, and she brought her elbow down into his kidney with all the force she could muster. His back arching, he stumbled onto the ground, fixing her again with his cold stare.
“We need to go,” one of the smaller guards said in a harsh whisper. “Mr. Ranulf is inspecting the tunnels.”