Cloaked in the shadows, I listen to Casteel walk away from Morgan’s room. I heard every word of their conversation—the small threats and the restraint in Morgan’s voice. I, too, had been surprised when they brought her to the living quarters, far away from the dungeons below. Especially after attacking Casteel so viscously.
I stand outside her room for the briefest of moments, feeling the familiar longing—I may have betrayed her, but we are still bonded. There’s only one way to cut the ties with a mate: death.
Casteel’s boots echo off the hallway. I leave Morgan’s door and follow him. I don’t trust him not to turn around and make Morgan pay further for the wounds she inflicted. He’s petty. Brutal, but weak.
He travels down the hall, turning at the corridor that leads back to my studio and the stairway to the dungeons. He passes the soldier at the landing, who calls out, “What happened to your neck?”
Casteel spins, quick and agile. His hand is around the soldier’s throat. He squeaks, unable to breathe. This time it’s not by magic but by sheer power.
“Mind your own fucking business, soldier.”
“Yes, sir,” he replies, gasping for air. I slink further into the wall.
“Get the prisoners ready,” Casteel barks to unknown soldiers below. He vanishes around the corner but his voice echoes back up the stairwell. “I need to blow off a little steam.”
Chapter 25
Dylan
It’s not until I reach the observation room that I realize there’s a problem. The monitors have been shut off. The room is empty. Keys hang from the lock.
My heart kicks into gear along with instincts and adrenaline. The instant I get the door open, I hear a voice.
“Dylan. Down here!”
My racing heart plunges into my gut and I run down the cells. Anita is gone and Marcus has taken her place in the filthy cell. “Where is she? Where’s Morgan?”
“She left, man. Locked me up in here and took off with the crazy chick.”
I look at my friend and try to process what he’s saying. “She’s gone? She did this to you?”
He nods. “Said the girl needed a shower and that you were up there waiting. I didn’t think it was a good idea.” He shakes his head. “I knew something was off.”
Why the hell would Morgan do that? What was she thinking?
“Can you let me out?” Marcus asks. He rattles the bars. I slip the key in the lock and release him. “Thanks.”
“Any idea where she was going?” I ask.
“No, but she took the prisoner with her. I don’t think she lied about the shower, though.” He waves his hand under his nose. “Start there.”
I pat him on the back. “Go upstairs. Get Sue to give you some food. I’ll be back.”
“You need any help?”
“I hope not, but stick around just in case I do.”
*
There’s no sign of Morgan in her room, but her bathroom looks like a bomb went off. I step over a pile of towels, nudging the clothes Anita wore in the cell. It couldn’t have been that long ago; the room still feels humid and the towels are damp. I exit the room, wondering where she could have gone.
Her bed looks in order but that doesn’t quell the unease in my chest. I sit on the edge of the bed and close my eyes, hoping to catch her final scent, but the room is filled with too much her and a lot of someone else. Apples and fruit dominate the air—shampoo—Anita most likely. There’s zero proof that they left the house. They aren’t in the dungeons, kitchen, or first floor.
I decide to start at the top, in the last place I saw Bunny slip from one world to the next. His studio.
Chapter 26
Morgan
Under the watchful eye of my silent servant--who I suspect is no more than a slave in the eyes of the Morrigan--I check the room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Casteel did his job thoroughly and there is nothing useful I can pry, break, or twist for my own purposes. The room is a sham. Staged decorations to make me feel like a guest. It’s just a different kind of cell.
I sit on the blood-red velvet chair and try to settle my emotions. Even if my entrance into this world was a bit rocky, I’m here, just like I wanted. Casteel poses a problem and I have no idea what to do about Bunny. Seeing him cut me to the bone…I didn’t expect it. I was so focused on getting to the Morrigan and back to my guardians, I hadn’t considered what seeing Bunny again would do to me.
I wrap my arms around my waist and feel the heartache and pain. Something I’d pushed aside, fueled by rage and anger. But seeing his face, his eyes, and his stupid hair…something cracked inside.
Better than ever, I understand the Morrigan’s rage after Cu left her on the riverbank. I understand her raw pain. The bitter acceptance and the unrelenting wrath she fed on for an eternity.
But I’m not the Morrigan. Not fully, and I have four other guardians that need me. They need my love. And my compassion. They do not need me going off on a destructive bender. That won’t help any of us.
I lean back in the chair, pulling a blanket over my knees. Part of me, the vengeful, angry part, wants to gut him and let him bleed out for what he did to me and our imperfect family. But another part, I don’t know if it’s my heart or my brain, tells me something else—that Bunny is a key player in all of this—and if I kill him it could hurt us even more.
*
“What’s your name?” I ask the girl holding a bucket over my head. Her expression is blank as she dumps hot water over me and I jerk up in the bathtub, howling.
“I’m sorry. Too hot. I’m sorry. Let me get something colder.”
“No.” I reach for her arm and she flinches. I release her. “No, I like it hot. This place is too freaking cold. It just surprised me.”
The worry lines smooth by her eyes and she lowers the metal bucket to the floor. She lathers soap in her hands and begins working it through my hair. The smell of lavender is strong and I settle back against the tub, beneath the suds.
When no one returned to release me from the room, I decided to clean up. I’d started to smell a bit ripe. The name-and emotionless slave stood in the corner, waiting for my instruction, and she jumped eagerly when I asked her for assistance in the bath. The Otherside was definitely lacking in modern technology, or parts of it. The faucet ran, but only cold water. No electricity that I could see. It didn’t make sense to me, but then again, this is a world of magic users, so maybe they don’t need it.
I peel off my suit as the girl draws the bath, filling it with warm water and powdery soap heated over the fire. She keeps her eyes averted but modesty had been lost with me over the past few months. My guardians had seen me in a variety of states of undress. They worshipped my body, built my confidence. I don’t need a servant girl’s approval of my figure. I know I’m strong. The lean muscles in my arms prove it. The tight dip of my belly is evidence of my change.