She was only about five or ten feet from me, and although the shadows were still thick and cloying around us, I could make her out a little bit better.
“In hell, sweetheart,” she said with a pained voice. “At least I assume this is what hell would feel like.”
She was small, barely five-foot-five, maybe one-hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. She looked young too. Twenty possibly, no older than that. She looked rough as hell.
“God,” I whispered and wanted to slap a hand over my mouth because no doubt she could read my expression as I stared at her. She laughed softly and shook her head, braiding the end of her hair before giving me a small smile.
“Do I look that bad?” There was a hint of teasing in her voice, and I was shocked that she could feel any kind of amusement or sound uplifting at a time like this. “Actually, don’t answer that. I haven't looked at my reflection in… gods, I don't know how long.” She lifted her hand and touched her mouth, the corner bloody and swollen, the dark bruise already forming.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “They rough me up every once in a while, but it’s been a long stretch of time since they’ve shown so much interest in me. I guess they wanted to remind me who has the power.” She shrugged and dropped her hand to her side. “But they’ve been pulling me out of the cell more frequently the last month.” She looked at the ground and tugged at the white shift dress she wore. It was frayed at the end and looked worse for wear, in need of a good wash.
“Would the two of you shut the fuck up?” a deep, distorted voice barked out, and I jumped, moving backward even though I had bars all around me.
“Bane, mind your business.”
He growled in response.
For such a tiny thing, the raven-haired woman had some bite in her.
“Who’s that?” I asked, but a part of me said I probably didn’t want to know. I’d heard shuffling, growling coming from the other cells, strange languages being spoken, harsh words shouted. I knew there were more than just me and her and this Bane fellow, but how many there were, and what they were, was a total mystery to me.
She walked over to the wall closest to the bars and leaned against it. “Demon. He’s a pain in the ass most of the time, but he does make good entertainment when they don’t sedate him enough before taking him out of the cell and he goes crazy on them.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Demons. Vampires and an entire world of… Otherworld.
“You’re in the holding cells for an organization that likes to torture, kill, maim… all of the above and more.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her. “An organization?”
She glanced at me, and a swatch of muted yellow light from the hallway between the cells slashed across her face. Despite the bruises and busted lip, the grime and knotted hair, she was gorgeous, ethereal even, with her big blue eyes that were so bright in color they couldn’t be real.
No, they’re real; she’s just not human.
“They call themselves the Assembly.” Her voice was tight, and I could tell it was hard for her to get it out. “What’s your name?” she asked softly, and I knew she was changing the subject. I was more than happy to. I didn’t have the energy or mental stability to think about any of this right now and let it sink in.
I licked my lips and let go of the bars, smoothing my hands down the sheet I still—thankfully—wore. “Kayla. Yours?”
She rested her head back and stared at the stone ceiling, her slender throat working up and down as she swallowed. “Larkin,” she said softly and, without taking her head off the wall, looked back at me. “What’s the year?”
I felt my brows pull down low. “The year?” She nodded. I told her, and her dark, arched eyebrows rose to her hairline.
“Gods,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “So long. So much time has passed.”
I reminded myself of all Adryan had told me about the Otherworld, knew that creatures in this world could look barely legal and be centuries old. Hell, Adryan didn’t look more than in his midthirties, yet my vampire was a hundred and twenty years old.
“You never tried to escape?” I don’t know why I said the words, but before I could censor myself, she was laughing humorlessly.
The one she called Bane barked out a harsh laugh. “Fucking escape?” he roared, and suddenly I heard a pound-pound-pound-pound sound.
Larkin exhaled. “He has no self-control.” Pound-pound-pound. “I tried escaping. More than once, but you learn fast in this place that if even Bane, a demon the size of a house,” she said and tipped her chin toward the front of her cell, “can’t bust out of here, then what’s the point?” She stared at me with these empty eyes. “But I tried. I really did… until I just stopped trying.”