Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Darya,” Mum exclaimed when she saw me. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”
“I slept great,” I replied, even though I’d been plagued with anxiety dreams, my mind conjuring images of Oreylia while I battled the urgency to rescue Vas and Sven.
“Where’s Carrabelle? I hope you didn’t hand her over to Sergeant Davis. She’s been through an awful time and she doesn’t need to be interrogated—”
“Calm down,” Dad interrupted me mid-rant. “Carrabelle is upstairs sleeping soundly in one of the guest bedrooms.”
“Oh,” I replied. If Dad said she was sleeping soundly then I knew it was true since with his super senses he could probably hear her snoring away. “Well, then how did it go at the hospital?”
“She had a broken leg that hadn’t been set correctly and a number of old injuries that were never treated,” Mum answered sadly. “The medical staff did the best they could but as it stands she’s going to have chronic pain. I’ve been talking with Rita and we’re going to try a healing spell in a few days when Carra’s feeling up to it.”
A few days? We didn’t have a few days. She needed to be healed today so that we could begin the rescue. Mum saw the look of consternation on my face when she set a plate heaped with bacon, pancakes and fruit in front of me. “I don’t like that expression. What’s going on?”
I looked at both my parents, sensing Belinda’s presence where she’d perched on a chair at the table. Getting their blessing was going to be near impossible, but I couldn’t journey to Oreylia without at least informing them first.
“I want to rescue Vasilios and Sven,” I told them quietly and the silence that followed was so stark you could hear a feather drop, never mind a pin.
“Out of the question.”
“Over my dead body.”
They spoke in unison and my heart sank at the steely look in my father’s golden eyes. Mum’s were just as adamant. Yesterday when they said they weren’t letting me out of their sight for the next two centuries they hadn’t been joking around.
“What are you thinking, Darya?” Mum asked, pressing her fingers to her temples. “You’ve just escaped a prison and now you want to journey to another dimension to rescue two convicted criminals?”
“Don’t even bother trying to reason with us,” Dad put in. “Because it’s not happening. I don’t care why you feel you need to do this, Darya. I’ll lock you in your room if I must.”
“I agree,” Belinda added. “You’re lucky you got out of that place alive. Remember the old lady who had her cronies beat you up?”
“The old lady who what?” Mum exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Dad glanced at her, clueless since only me and Mum could see Belinda. “What is it?” Dad questioned.
“Thanks for that,” I glared at Belinda and she smiled in response. “No worries.”
“Belinda says there was a prisoner who had Darya beaten up,” Mum explained and Dad instantly stilled.
“The prisoner’s name?” he requested, his voice a low rumble as he turned his attention to me.
“It was just some old vampire who ran the prison at night. She was only a few centuries short of her thousandth birthday and you know how vamps that old hate dhampirs. She took exception to me but it’s not important now. I’m home, that’s all that matters.”
“Yes, and you want to leave and head off on another dangerous quest,” Mum said, folding her arms.
“Her name,” Dad repeated. “Tell me her name.”
“Why? She’s in prison. It’s not like you—”
“Darya. Her name. Now,” he boomed and I startled.
“Fine,” I whispered. “Macalister, but everyone calls her Mack.”
His eyes sharpened in a way that told me he was about to make life a lot harder for Mack, not that I had much sympathy for her.
“What I don’t understand is why you want to rescue them?” Mum continued. “They were going to be sent back to their own dimension once they served their sentences here anyway. This way they’ve just gone home a little sooner.”
“It’s not that simple,” I replied.
“Then explain it to me.”
“They’re my friends,” I blurted, a wave of emotion clutching me. I bit my lip to keep my voice from wobbling. “In the prison they became my allies. They protected me, told me their stories. If you knew what their lives have been then you’d want to rescue them, too. Despite all they’ve done, they don’t deserve this.”
My parents shared a concerned look. Then Mum bent across the counter and placed her hand over mine. “Darya, you’ve always been strong, strong in a way that made you independent from a young age. But you’re also kind, and there are people who can see that kindness and exploit it. They can tell stories that would make a heart like yours bleed, but those stories aren’t always true. Sometimes they’re concocted solely to take advantage of others. To manipulate.”