Her heels clicked along the slate floor as she approached. “Oh, how wonderful, Marcus. Goody me. You’ve found her.”
Marcus turned his glare to her. “She found us.” He ended his sentence with a sound of disgust and thrust me toward Thalia. “Just take her.”
He turned and headed down the hall, a ring of keys jangling at his side.
“Confiscate her matches,” he called behind him as he disappeared into the shadows.
Thalia grabbed hold of my elbow, and I yanked fruitlessly against her grasp.
“I see you’ve met our disabler,” she said. Her hair smelled like lemons and soil. My stomach lurched. She tightened her grip, laughing, and reached in my pocket to retrieve the box of matches. “Guess you don’t need these.”
As she pushed me forward, I leaned back, refusing to walk the direction she urged. Another Cruor approached. Something pricked my neck.
Everything blurred.
No.
I fought to hold onto consciousness, but my muscles weakened. I sank to the floor, Thalia’s elbows hooked under my armpits.
Her voice was there, somewhere, woolen and dreamlike.
“Take her.”
***
I BLINKED MY EYES OPEN. No iron bars. A steel door. A caged light flickered overhead. Mildew spores branched across the bottom of the walls like varicose veins. I heard a distant coughing—a Strigoi being held prisoner. Not Charles. I tried to rub my forehead, but my hands wouldn’t move. Someone had roped me to a chair.
The doorknob rattled, then stilled.
An unfamiliar voice echoed through the door. “Turning her would be of use.”
“You don’t know her.” This time, the voice was Thalia’s.
“I’ll send Marcus.”
The door opened. As Thalia entered, her black robes brushed the floor. Her hair was tamer than usual, her expression colder and her violet eyes brighter.
“I would just as soon have you killed,” she said, “but I suppose it will still happen. Only more painfully.”
This was all she said before leaving.
***
MY CLAIRAUDIENCE came and went in waves. Marcus was disabling me, though perhaps sometimes he was too far away to do so effectively.
When I had a new surge, I sent my clairaudience out to the Maltorim’s main room. Thoughts echoed inside my head—Thalia and Callista I recognized, but no one else. They had with them a human girl, one who would not make it through the night. I pushed my fear for her aside. I couldn’t help, only listen.
“If any of you object, you are free to leave,” Callista said. Her words were a lie. No one was free to go anywhere if they didn’t agree with her, and they knew as much.
“You have my utter and complete loyalty,” Thalia replied.
“Give it a rest, Thalia. I knew of Charles long before you came to me.”
“Oh?” Thalia sounded hurt to the ears of a quiet Cruor whose mind I had tapped into. “How is that?”
“You know my source.”
“Ivory?”
“She contacted me a month back and told me of his nature. Along with the location of the Liettes.”
Thalia didn’t believe her but dared not accuse the Queen of lying. “She’s gone now,” she said instead, barely-suppressed anger coloring her voice. “I’m here. And I am the one who told you of the girl. Ivory was keeping her from you.”
“It’s of no consequence,” Callista retorted. “We have but one goal. Ultimately, we protect ourselves and therefore the human race as a whole.”
I couldn’t believe Ivory had involved the Maltorim. I was only thankful she hadn’t told them where Charles lived, but that was likely only because she didn’t want them to find me.
As Callista spoke, conflicting thoughts echoed from those around her. Most were completely loyal while others knew her for the hypocrite she was. Save the humans—but kill them when she wanted to feed on their blood? Over the years, Callista had done her part to ensure a Maltorim comprised entirely of Cruor. Her loyalties lay with protecting her own kind, and she believed the longer they waited, the faster the dual-breeds would grow in number.
“We have the upper hand now,” Callista continued, “and we must extinguish the remaining dual-breeds at once if we want to send a message of zero tolerance. They will only replenish in number, and I don’t think I need to tell you all the dangers that would pose.”
Almost everyone in the room agreed with her final sentiment.
I allowed more thoughts to filter in. One member carefully watched everyone’s actions, and I included her thoughts in my focus. She thought differently—mostly in patterns and pictures—but her mind seemed blank of emotion or reaction. She was mentally filing every spoken word and every Cruor’s move.
Callista’s very own stenographer.
I closed my eyes, and the stenographer’s vision played on the insides of my eyelids.
“I hate to be contrary, my Queen,” a young male Cruor said, “but the Universe—”
“Oh, please. Surely you jest?”
“It’s only that—”
“It’s nothing! The Universe is nothing—they have failed time and again. This is our chance.”