“Both.”
The dungeons are under the castle, he tells me. Deep in the belly, under the tower on the north side. There is no daylight. No plumbing or electricity down there. The air is a different sort of cold. “Although we reside in human vessels, we were molded into cold-blooded birds. The cold doesn’t help. The inflicted wounds simply freeze. The blood hardens into ice. Because we can survive the conditions, it just provides more opportunity for torture.”
I ask the question I’ve kept to myself for weeks. “Do you think they’re dead?”
“I believe they pray to the gods that they were dead.”
So no. Just like Anita implied.
“Why would she keep them alive—give us any hope to get them back?”
He reaches for me, taking my hand and resting it on his chest, above the heat of his heart. “We’re bound. Connected. In all the ways we can help one another, we can also hurt each other. She’ll use their power for her own gain. The longer they are away from you, the more damage it does.” He chuckles. “I am a strong and virile man, Morgan, but even I can’t fulfill your ravenous needs.”
“But if I get them back,” I say. “I can heal them, right? I can fix this?”
He gives me a hard look. “It’s not so easy.”
“What makes you believe I think anything will be easy? We don’t even have access to the Otherside yet.”
“If you ever, by a miracle of the gods, got to the Otherside, the Morrigan would capture you in moments. Her guards and soldiers are legendary.”
I glance at the scars on his wrists. “You beat them.”
“I had one chance and I took it. I have little faith that if I saw Casteel again I would survive.”
“Casteel?”
“The Morrigan’s Commander. She may have eschewed love, but if she has anything close to a partner, it’s him.”
“And he did that to you?” I point to the scars.
His blue eyes have become hard like sapphires. He stands and walks across the room. “I paid him back.”
“So it is possible to fight back—and to escape.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Morgan.”
“So you’ve just given up?” My anger flares.
“I’m doing what they would want me to. Keep you safe. Fight to stop the virus.”
“Did they not come for you? Is that what this is about?” As soon as the words leave my mouth I know they are the wrong thing to say. He clams up and strides for the door. “Dylan, wait. Stop. I didn’t mean it.”
He looks at me sadly, neither of us happy or content. We’re in a shitty situation. A mess that is drowning us both. But unlike Dylan, I refuse to sink any further.
*
Fortified on the strength of my guardian, I spend the afternoon preparing for my mission. I got Dylan’s approval—at least for the moment. Sure, I know he basically agreed under the duress of magic and pussy, but it’s the best I could do. I wanted him to know. I need his strength. Most of all, I must have his cooperation.
As afternoon nears, I ask if he’ll visit Hildi and Andi and see if they need anything. While his jaw has the lax muscles of a man freshly fucked, his eyes carry shadows of concern. He’ll try to stop me, it’s in his nature and I adore him for it, but I need Dylan out of the way.
He leaves out the front door and I wait behind my closed door until he’s gone. His keen sense of my whereabouts failed the night before—I doubt it will again.
When I’m sure he’s off the property I slip downstairs, sneaking past the warmth of the kitchen. I take the stairway to the depths of the house, to the dungeon, where Marcus sits in the small lounge outside the cells.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing his eyes. It’s a boring job, but we set Hildi up with a computer and a comfortable bed. “What brings you down here?”
“How’s she doing?”
“The same. How long do you plan on keeping her down here?” Marcus glances at the monitors, checking up on Anita, who is sitting on her cot with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair is a mess. Her clothing is wrinkled and dirty.
“It’s been a week. I’m going to take her for a bath—see if a little reward will get her talking.”
He snorts. “Unlikely. She hasn’t said anything coherent since I’ve been here.”
“Any incidents?”
“Other than rambling nonsensically, no. She’s pretty docile.”
I’d hoped he would say that. I give him the signal to flip the lock and he does, the metal bar clicking when it springs. I’m hit by Anita’s stench the instant I enter. Marcus follows me in. “Maybe you can clean her cell while I’ve got her upstairs?”
“Upstairs?”
“There’s no shower down here.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “What does Dylan think about this?”
“It was his idea. He’s waiting upstairs.” I check my phone for the time. “He’s probably wondering where I am.”
Anita watches us as we approach her cell. She’s sitting the same as in the monitor. Knees bent, arms wrapped around them. Her eyes dart between us with mild interest.
“Get up,” I say, wrinkling my nose. She doesn’t move. “I know you’re used to your new digs but it’s time to clean up. Come on.”
She stands, slowly as though she’s not fully coherent. I hope it will make her more docile on the way up the stairs. I don’t have time for any of her bullshit. “Unlock the door, Marcus.”
He holds the ring of keys. It’s old fashioned but so are the cells. I suspect they’ve been down here way longer than the house above. Marcus hesitates. I get it. Anita is deadly. She’s an active contagion. I hold out my hand for the key. “She can’t infect you. It doesn’t bother the supernatural—just humans.”
Anita’s eyes light up at that and she laughs, baring her teeth.
“Turn around, psycho.” I fish the zip-tie out of my pocket. I’m not a fool. I won’t take her upstairs unbound. Marcus sighs with relief when he sees my measures. “It’s going to be fine.”
I hate lying to him. Just like I hate the fact that I’m a betraying liar when I yank Anita out of the cell and shove him inside, slamming the door between us.
“What the hell?” he screams.
I get my hands back on Anita, moving her where I can see her.
“Sorry. I can’t risk anyone coming upstairs right now.”
Marcus swallows, his dark eyes watching me. “What about Dylan?”
“We’ll be gone before he gets home.” Anita starts giggling next to me. I’m not even sure if she knows why. “I’m sure he’ll find you. Eventually.”
He shakes his head. “He’ll kill me.”
“I’ll tell him I was responsible. Don’t worry—he knows I’m a loose cannon.” I give him a sympathetic smile. “I’m not doing a bad thing. I’m trying to fix it, but I have to do it alone.” I glance at Anita. “Well, almost alone.”