Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“So, where’s your ghost friend today?” Sven asked, changing the subject. “Is she still intent on my demise?”
“Very much so, though the last I heard, she was spending some time relaxing at her grandmother’s beach house by the coast.”
“Must be nice,” Vasilios muttered, casting a wry look at our bleak surroundings. The stone walls dripped with perspiration, the glass skylights above us so covered in grime and bird poop there was barely any light getting in at all.
“Has she discovered any abilities yet?” Sven queried further.
I furrowed my brow because Belinda had discovered a few ghostly abilities, but how did Sven know about those?
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been encountering ghosts since I was a child,” he answered. “Many of them became adept at what you’d term ‘haunting’. Some were more powerful than others, but from what I sensed from your friend—”
“She’s not my friend,” I interrupted, though really, she kind of was. Or at least, Belinda was the closest thing I had to a friend in there, though enviably, she could flit away to beach houses whenever the mood struck her.
“Fine,” Sven allowed. “What I sensed from the ghost who is not your friend is that she may become quite a formidable force. I’ve only encountered a handful of ghosts with such potent energy as hers. Normally, they’re the ones who died violently.”
My face fell. “I guess the anger at having your life brutally cut short creates a certain power all of its own.” It was difficult not to point fingers at Vasilios right then and demand to know who he’d gotten to do his bidding, who he’d instructed to stab poor Belinda to death.
“Belinda died violently?” Vasilios asked, and I really wanted to roll my eyes, but I refrained. As I said, I had to play the game.
“I’m not discussing that,” I shot back and scraped the last few dregs of soup up with my spoon.
His voice lowered to a whisper as he studied me. “Did you lose control?”
The insinuation was galling and he knew it. I had perfect control of myself, a prime example being the fact that I was sitting with him, acting civil. I dropped my spoon into the empty bowl, lifted my tray, and stood. Grinding my teeth so hard my jaw hurt, I grunted quietly, “I. Was. Framed.”
With that, I walked away.
“Framed by who? Why would someone want to frame you?” he called after me, but I ignored his pointless questions. This whole pretence really was testing the parameters of my patience. I dropped my tray off by the serving counter and headed toward the prison entrance to report for my work duties. I had them every day but Sunday. Baker and the others were already there, and the witch I’d heard Baker refer to as Aggie gave me a judgemental look up and down. I shrugged. I knew I looked like death warmed up, but there was no remedy. And maybe it would work in my favour since the more I stank, the less inclined other prisoners would be to get in my face.
Vasilios and Sven arrived soon after, but I folded my arms and ignored them. I was still furious about his insinuation that I could lose control and kill someone. Sure, I was half vampire, but that didn’t mean I was capable of indiscriminate murder. Was he trying to gaslight me? Somehow convince me I had killed Belinda and I couldn’t remember because I’d blacked out during a violent rage? The thought made me even more furious.
The same two guards from the day before appeared and opened the steel doors, letting us through. I’d learned their names were McClellan and Hobbs. McClellan was the female guard, and I thought maybe she was the one to ask for a meeting with the warden. I waited until we’d reached the underground harbour before making my approach.
“What you do want, inmate?” she asked when I stopped in front of her.
I scratched my chin, then replied, “I was wondering if I could request a meeting with the warden. It’s important that I speak with him.”
She shot me a cynical look. Hobbs, who stood by the boat supervising the repairs, glanced over with a curious expression.
“Oh, yeah, and what’s so important that you need a face-to-face meeting with the warden himself?” she asked.
“It’s personal.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Ugh, she was the worst. I obviously couldn’t tell her the truth, but being put on the spot meant I couldn’t come up with a good enough lie. “I can’t tell you,” I said, firming my jaw.
“Well, then, I can’t help you. Now, get to work. You’re wasting time.”
Pressing my lips together in annoyance, I went to the boat and resumed the same routine of scraping away rust as yesterday. It was a large boat, which meant it would take forever before the entire exterior was clean enough for a new coat of paint.