The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) (7 page)

I wobbled to the mat/bed and sat down with a heavy
plop
as the barred door rattled closed with a resolute
wham
. Aden appeared behind the door. “This is only temporary, until we… sort some things out.”

My hands were loosely clasped in my lap, my back stooped over, as I stared blankly at the floor, vaguely registering what he was saying.

He turned away. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said quietly.

When I awoke from my shock-induced coma and looked up, Aden was gone. I was alone, save for a single female guard humming outside my cell.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours as the night (or whatever it was; I had lost all sense of time in this place) dragged on. Meals were brought to me, simple,
human
things like oatmeal and fresh fruit and milk, but my appetite had vanished. The plate grew cold and the guard at last removed it, leaving me once again at the mercy of my emotions.

Shock gave way to anger, anger to despair, as I switched from pacing and lying down, to screaming and pounding my fists against the chaffing stone walls so hard they bled. Drained and defeated, I slumped to the floor, biting a hole into my lip as the blood from my torn skin mixed with the silent tears pooling beside my head.

***

That cell became my sanctuary. As I mourned and accepted the loss of my brother, the extinguished flame inside me rekindled, tiny but burning all the same. A constant stream of thoughts tumbled through my head, from my brother to the recent events, to pondering how I fit into this world, if I still did. Clearly the vampires didn’t trust me – and why should they? I wore the Black Cross, branding me a hunter for life, however short that may be – but my vampire blood made me the sworn enemy of the human race, and therefore, what was left of my family and my friends. I had become a walking paradox.

My troubled thoughts held more worries than just the loss of my brother. Going off the information Aden had given me, the humans had much more to fear than the monsters that roamed the Red Sectors. I wondered more than once about the difference between the two types of vampires, how one became less of a man and more of an animal, and if it was choice or if they were born that way. Regardless, both vampires were incredibly dangerous, especially if my prediction came to pass. The humans deserved to know, to somehow be warned of the impending Armageddon.

Leo would listen to me. As long as I knew he was safe, then I’d gladly die for the risk of telling him.

An escape plan didn’t come together very easily. I supposed I could wait for the Scarlet Guard to find me, but seeing as no one had any clue this place even existed, I doubted that was going to happen any time soon, and time was a precious luxury I couldn’t afford to waste. If anyone was going to get me out, it would have to be me.

I rarely saw Aden. When he did stop by my cell to deliver some sort of instructions to the guard, he caught my eye, some emotion I couldn’t quite place dancing behind those vivid blue orbs. Then I would break his gaze and scowl as he walked away, chuckling.

I was never truly alone. There was always a guard posted a few feet away, usually the woman I’d seen when I had first been dumped here. Sometimes, when it was very still, I could barely pick up the soft crying of a girl through the walls of cinderblock, though I had to listen carefully, even with my enhanced hearing. I wondered who she was, and what she had done to end up here. She sounded very lonely. My heart went out to her, and I wished I could comfort her and tell her she wasn’t alone.

My appetite had finally returned, and when the guard let herself into my cell – which she never did on her first few shifts – to hand me my lunch, I snatched the sloppy BLT off the paper plate and took such a large, hard bite I nearly ripped the sandwich in half. (I had been counting the days by the number of meals I had received. A total of three days had passed, or so I estimated.)

My taste buds had been incredibly sensitive after the change. Water, which was basically all I had been taking in, was alive with minerals. I could literally taste the rocks and smell the scents of the forest and the earth off of it.

But nothing came close to the sensations rolling across my tongue as I chewed the sandwich. Flavor exploded along the inside of my mouth and down my throat as I swallowed. There were so many palettes that my senses didn’t know where to begin. I closed my eyes and relished the taste. It was divine, the best bacon, lettuce, tomato, and bread I’d ever had.

I hadn’t realized I had closed my eyes until a stifled giggle broke my attention from the sandwich. I glanced up to find the guard covering her mouth, her cheeks round with a smile. She was about my height and build, with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her military uniform was black and identical to Aden’s, only she had two chevrons and a skirt instead of pants, along with tall black boots.

I quirked a brow and awkwardly wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Yes?”

“
Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your tongue-gasm.” A giggle slipped out toward the end, and I blushed as she handed me a paper cup. “But I forgot to give you a drink.”

I muttered “thank you” and stood to walk over to her when I froze, picking up on something odd. It was hard to describe, as if someone was projecting his or her feelings into my body, but not so much that it tampered with my own. I stood there, “listening” to the thread of amusement underscored by a keen sense of fear.

The woman eyed me warily, her hand sliding up to the gun at her hip. “Is something wrong, miss?”

I shook my head, thinking I must be delusional from lack of food. I hadn’t been eating well, only regaining some semblance of an appetite these past few hours.

“
No, nothing’s wrong,” I said, stepping closer and taking the cup from her. When my fingertips brushed hers, it was like I was “jolted,” the blur of her emotions sharpening under the lens of direct skin-to-skin contact.

It’s her. I’m somehow sensing – feeling – her emotions.

We only touched for a split second, but the residue of our contact remained on my skin like oil. Something flashed silver in the dim light, and my eyes glimpsed a set of keys dangling innocently from her belt.

As I stared at those keys, an idea came to mind.

It was ludicrous. I didn’t even know if it would work, and reality had shown me that we should place very little stock in the myths we’d been fed by Hollywood and the imaginations of authors. But short of knocking the guard out – if I could even land a blow – it was worth trying.

Feeling partially idiotic, I focused on tapping into her feelings again, this time locking eyes with her. I imagined the connection as a string threaded by different emotions, except by looking her directly in the eyes I could sense her thoughts, as well. Though barely visible beneath the surface, I felt a twinge of sleep pull at me, through her, along with something about a ten-hour shift the night before with little rest in between. Her pupils dilated and her expression turned blank as she stared back at me, utterly transfixed. Both of her arms hung limp at her sides.

“
Give me your keys,” I said, slowly and deliberately.

Still holding my gaze – which was starting to burn since I didn’t dare blink for fear of breaking the connection – the guard reached to her side and gently pulled the key ring loose, depositing it into my outstretched hand.

I tingled with excitement as I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal keys. “Switch uniforms with me, and give me your hair tie,” I ordered.

She did as I said, unlacing her boots and zipping out of her jacket and skirt without a second thought as I stripped down to my underwear and handed her my prisoner’s garb, which she pulled on without hesitation. I had to look away to put on her uniform – which fit fairly close – and when I did, I could feel the connection weaken. Alarmed, I snatched the hair tie from her hand as she blinked, looking dazed, and I cupped her face between my hands, forcing her to look at me. The moment our eyes met, I instantly felt the connection return, though I had to strain this time to keep it under my control.

Sweat beaded across my forehead. “Now go lie down in my bed, pull the covers all the way past your face, and go to sleep.”

A goofy grin spread across her mouth. “Sleep… that sounds nice…” The woman shuffled like a zombie over to my mat-of-a-bed, her long brown hair cascading down her back. She climbed beneath the single, shabby patchwork blanket, rolling over onto her side before drawing the edge up over her face so that only her hair showed. Within minutes, her deep breathing filled the cell and I finally blinked as her thoughts stilled, my eyes watering furiously as I heaved a huge sigh.

It worked. I can’t believe that actually worked!
I wanted to do a little dance, but I wasn’t sure how long it would be until the next guard arrived, not to mention I had no clue exactly how to get out of this place.

After lacing up her boots and pulling my hair back in a ponytail, I crouched next to the bars and listened intently for any sign of movement, but the corridor was completely still. I looked at the keys; there were exactly ten altogether.

I frowned.

How was I to know which one was to my cell? Maybe one of them was a skeleton key, and would work on any locked door I came upon.

Starting at the end, I slipped my arm through the bars – using my free hand to hold on to the padlock – and awkwardly went through each key with no luck. I began to panic, fearing I had somehow gotten the wrong set, when something clicked deep within the lock and I felt it slacken in my free hand. Lungs burning, I let out my breath and shakily stood, carefully removing the padlock and sliding the door open as quietly as I could. Though it screeched mercilessly, I kept going until I had a decent sized opening through which to fit through, and squeezed myself into the corridor, closing the door behind me.

I glanced to either side. It looked exactly the same, with cells lining one wall and nothing but gray cinderblocks on the other. I scanned for cameras, but oddly enough, didn’t find any. Somehow, I refused to believe they kept their security so low, unless they really were that proud and thought no one could possibly escape from here.

They’re probably just hidden. Either way, best to keep moving.

Casually relocking the padlock, I picked a direction and walked down the hall, making sure my right sleeve completely covered the tattoo on my wrist. The hall was narrow, and the echo of my footsteps made it seem that much longer. Black and white tiles checkered the floor, and the ceiling was lined with rectangles of false yellow lighting, creating barely enough light to see. Thankfully, vampire vision was also improved from that of a human. Being more akin to that of a hawk, it allowed me to see farther and sharper in the dark.

As I passed cell after empty cell, I picked up on a trace of sorrow right before I heard the strangled weeping of a girl. Raw grief poured into me, so enormous it was nearly suffocating, as I paused outside the cell and peered around the corner.

At first, I didn’t see anything, though the crying suddenly stopped and the cell went silent. My eyes scanned the darkness, unsure if I had heard it or not, as I leaned closer to the bars. A pair of frail, white hands shot out, and I bit my tongue to keep from yelping as the face of a young girl appeared.

She couldn’t have been older than ten. Her skin was sallow and the color of snow, her bedraggled hair knotted and filthy. She gaped at me with two enormous blue eyes, which appeared much wider due to the bags hanging beneath them.

“
Please,” she whimpered. “Please, help me. Mommy…. Daddy…. Spotty…” She rested her head against the bars and sagged as more sobs raked her fragile body.

A thick knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Though it was disturbing they were keeping a child locked up in this condition, what bothered me more was her lack of a “vampiric signature.”

She’s human.

I could only think of one reason they would be keeping a human girl hostage. What other excuse could they have for holding her here? This poor girl looked like no criminal I had ever seen. She looked like a prisoner of war, ravaged by starvation and despair and left to rot, forgotten and alone, in a cold, dank cell. The thought made me sick at my stomach.

Unable to walk away, I grasped her ice cold hands in my own, kneeling before her. “Look at me,” I said, and she brought her fearful, wide eyes up. I could feel the connection between us as I tasted her emotions, but it was like the connection was behind a door, waiting to be let in. I imagined opening that door, and at once felt the pull that drew her under my spell. “Everything’s going to be all right,” I said softly but firmly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to get you out of here. Just stay calm and don’t make a sound.”