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)
And no thanks to that.
Vasilios appeared intrigued by Marcel’s theory. “You believe the guards are hanging people from the tree and making it look like suicide?”
“In my time here, everyone I’ve witnessed hang was nearing the end of their sentence. Not days away from getting out, mind. No, that would be too obvious. But they could have a year left, a few months, maybe. No one has died who still had decades or more left to serve.”
I listened with rapt attention and had to stop myself from commenting that if Marcel’s theory was correct, then he was safe from the hanging tree since he was there for life. Vasilios glanced at me when he said, “That theory isn’t too different from yours. Except, in this case, it’s the supposed good guys who are the killers.”
Marcel’s attention fell on me for the first time. “What was your theory, young one?”
I shrugged, deeply uncomfortable to have his eyes on me. Who knew what familiarities he might spot? “Just that another prisoner might be hanging people and making it look like suicide. I hadn’t considered it might be a guard.”
“Yes, well, you’re new here, clearly. You’ll soon learn that the guards care nothing for us. All they care about is making sure we never taste freedom again. And don’t get me started on the warden, a vile, greedy man.”
What he said gave me pause, because my safe removal from the prison all depended on the warden getting me out, but if he was corrupt I shuddered to think what might transpire. “Is he really so bad? Have you met him?” I asked and Marcel spat harshly onto the ground.
“Once or twice. He’s an absolute weasel. Good for nothing.”
My stomach twisted hearing this. “Well, let’s hope you’re wrong about the guards, for all our sake.”
I couldn’t allow myself to imagine a world where the guards were murdering inmates because I needed to trust in them to let me out of there when I completed my mission. If there was corruption, well, I really didn’t want to think about it.
I’d hoped Marcel would go back to ignoring me and conversing with Vasilios, but instead, he began to study me. I tensed.
“What’s your name, child?”
“This is Darya,” Vasilios replied, and my stomach did a somersault. Would he tell Marcel who I was, who my parents were? I was relieved when he simply finished with, “She’s a dhampir. That makes her ours.”
“I see,” Marcel replied, eyes narrowing before turning away from me. “Well, I’d better get back to my kind since you have no interest in breaking the rules.”
“As I said, maybe one day,” Vasilios told him.
“Never going to happen. None of us are getting out of here alive,” Marcel replied like it was a basic fact as he hobbled his way back to the benches.
“That was Marcel Girard,” I whispered, a tremble going through me.
“What? Is the reality of the monster your parents concocted not living up to the stories?” Vasilios questioned.
“He’s elderly now. Even the world’s worst villains seem harmless when they get old.”
“Or maybe he’s not as bad as you were led to believe.”
I decided not to comment on that. “You know he’s serving a life sentence, right? He’s not getting out of here.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, watching as Sven shot Vasilios a warning look.
“It’s none of your business, is what he means,” Sven replied in a hard voice.
I glanced from him to Vasilios, raising my eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me you two plan to escape?”
“What gave you that idea?”
“All the maybes you just spouted. There are no maybes in a life sentence, especially not in this prison.”
“Of course, there are. If a prisoner is old and terminally ill, they might be freed. Compassionate release, I believe, is what it’s called.”
“Somehow, I doubt that’ll happen in Marcel’s case.”
As Vasilios eyeballed me, a weird shudder went through him. He seemed oddly shaken for a moment before he regained himself. I narrowed my gaze. “What just happened?”
He glanced at Sven, and the two shared another look without exchanging words. Then, to my surprise, Vasilios grabbed me by the wrist and led me back inside the prison. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
11.
Vasilios led me through several hallways where prisoners loitered before we arrived at a barred door. I felt his magic fill the air a moment before he whispered a short incantation and the lock turned over. It was then that I realised what had happened to him in the yard. His magic had momentarily returned.
He’d said it wasn’t constant, it flickered in and out, and it was too weak to allow him to teleport. I’d thought he might have been lying, but now, I wondered if he’d been telling the truth. Did that mean he was telling me the truth about other things, too?