the side of a plain stone building so preposterously tall it might as well have led up to the sun. The wall was covered in runes, claw marks and scorch stains. A wheel-shaped handle made of obsidian and bone turned in place, and gears moved deep in the wall.
The prisoners were ushered through the door and down a dank staircase that led to a hall filled ankle-deep with water and muck. The walls were covered in blood stains, nicks and arcane graffiti set there with black chalk. The air shifted, and the walls groaned. It was as if they’d stepped onto a ship.
The march was relentlessly paced. Kane complained and was pushed to his knees and struck in his lower back with the butt of a bone rifle. He didn’t complain again.
The vampires brought them to a wide vaulted hall with a half-dozen side corridors that led into the obscurity of shadows. Pale blue lights that looked like radioactive ice clung to the iron ceiling. Cross made out vampire script cast in blood paint. His High Jlantrian was shoddy, at best, but he thought it read CELL BLOCK 13.
“ No!” Black called out as she and Cole were separated. All of the prisoners were taken away, one by one. “Cole!” she screamed.
“ It’s ok, Danni,” Cole said with a nervous smile. A vampire hauled her down a corridor. She put all of her weight against the creature as it led her away and forced it to drag her through the murky water, but since Cole only weighed maybe a buck-ten, Cross didn’t think she really gave the undead too much trouble. “I’ll see you soon!”
“ God damn it, you bastards!” Black screamed. She struggled, but not enough.
None of us has the strength.
His spirit, as if in reply, stirred and pressed against him like a frightened pet. He could barely feel her, she was so weak.
What the hell did they do to you?
Kane stole a kiss from Ekko before they dragged him away. He knew exactly how to throw his weight and drag his feet and generally make things as difficult for their vampire jailors as he possibly could without actually getting himself disciplined again.
He’s been here before. Cross couldn’t imagine that Kane and Ekko’s history with this place boded well for them. As brutal as Ebon Cities jailors would be with captured Southern Claw soldiers, they’d be even less gentle with prisoners who’d escaped their grasp once already.
Dillon was taken down another hall. He and Cross exchanged glances as he was dragged away. Cross shook his head, and he wanted to explain that he was sorry, that he hadn’t wanted things to end up as they had, that he wished they weren’t hundreds of miles away from home and behind enemy lines and far from where they were supposed to be, about to die or worse.
For his part, Dillon just nodded back, stoic, quiet and reserved, just like always.
This isn’t your fault, that nod seemed to say. This is what happens sometimes.
Cross’ stomach clinched. He thought of Dillon’s sister and nephew. He thought of Snow, burning alive on a train as it plummeted to the bottom of a nightmare rift.
The lead vampire and a black-clad jailor hauled Cross down a long hallway. Dank water that reeked of feces and charcoal leaked through Cross’ damaged combat boots, and he felt greasy matter mash between his toes. The sound of their feet splashing down the hall filled Cross’ head like a song, but it was drowned out by the groan of the metal walls.
There was less light the deeper they went. Soon Cross’ eyes strained to see the filth-covered hallway. Something brushed against his leg just below the surface of the water; whatever it was, it was so cold that its touch nearly froze him in his tracks.
He was pushed around a corner. Water flowed down a short set of steps and into a dark, vast room. The vampires pushed Cross down the steps. He stumbled and fell head-long into the freezing water screams teeth gnashing claws at his throat rain of acid blood nails fire tearing through the sky is a giant mouth parting to tear the flesh ground into holes like eyes like pits fire burn hold you down falling forever into screams teeth gnashing
Cross gasped, and jumped back up to get his head out of the water. He was soaked through to the bone. His clothes clung to his skin. A smell like the inside of an old drain clung to his nostrils. Dank water dripped off of him like he’d spent an hour in the middle of a rainstorm.
The water level in the room had risen up to his knees. Even though he’d only been submerged for a few moments, he had the feeling that hours had passed. He felt out of synch, like he’d just woken up. The door had been sealed shut, and the air was still.
Cross stumbled around in near darkness. A dim glowing orb — some arcane vampire trinket the size of a softball — dangled from one of the enumerate chains that hung overhead. The orb leaked steam and smelled like gasoline.
He inspected the chains. Dozens of them hung down from the high ceiling, but the lower ends of the chains were still several feet over his head. Bits of molded meat, ragged cloth and bone dangled from the hooks.
He sloshed his way back to the steps and the sealed iron door. The steps had been swallowed up by the water, and even when he ascended he was still submerged up to his ankles.
Cross reached for his spirit. She was there, but she was incredibly weak. They’d done something to her, something to the bond that the two of them shared, some damage he couldn’t quite identify. He felt it inside of him, a wound so deep it ate at him and blackened his soul, like he’d been filled with oily smoke. That wound wouldn’t let them heal or truly touch one another.
Not again.
“ God damn it!”
His voice echoed into the darkness and faded away. He was answered only by the slosh of deep water and the jangle of rusted chains.
Cross limped the perimeter of the room. His spirit managed to keep his body warm — he worried about Dillon, who had no such ability — but there was little to be done about the water. He thought about trench foot. He’d be able to sleep on the top step next to the door so long as he propped himself upright, but he’d only be able to doze, at best, and he knew that if he was too exhausted he’d quietly slip under the surface and drown.
He tapped on the walls, and tried the door. The steel was lined with thick patches of grey-red rust, but it was free of handholds, and impossible to climb.
Time passed. Cross tried to reach the chains, but he couldn’t. He paced and limped through the grimy waters. He tried the walls again.
They’d taken his gauntlets. Even if his spirit hadn’t been so weak and their bond hadn’t been as damaged as it was, it was incredibly dangerous for him to call on her. At best, he’d scar them both forever.
I know better than to have even tried. His mind felt numb and slow. What the hell is wrong with me?
He walked, back and forth, and memorized the particular smudges on the wall, the spots where the steel had been damaged in peculiar ways. One pattern of scratches looked like some ancient language. He thought that another looked like a lizard wearing a hat, and that was when he understood that he was losing his mind.
His skin was cold and clammy. He was afraid to look at his feet under the boots. His stomach growled.
Cross closed his eyes, and hours seemed to pass in the space of that hands with claws reach out of the water grab pull you down slide the skin off your bones suck lick chew our way up your body blink. He slept standing up. Horrid images assaulted him in his dreams, so he did his best to stay awake.
They’re trying to break you, he told himself. This is what they do.
This is what they did to Snow.
He thought about his sister. He tried not to, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. He missed her. Her death was his fault, because in the end he hadn’t been able to save her. His chest tightened at the memory. His hands shook. He saw her face, younger than when she’d died, when she was maybe ten years old. He heard her voice.
Cross wept.
He sees her on the train, burning.
The light grew dimmer. He saw things move in the shadows, things he hoped weren’t really there. The chains rattled now and again, blown by some phantom wind. There was no breeze in that dank pit, of course, no clean air at all. Cross tasted poison on his tongue and bile in the back of his throat.
He pissed in the corner, not caring that it would blend with the other water in his cage.
Cross lost time. It might have been only hours since they’d deposited him there, or it might have been days. It soon became very difficult to tell if he was awake or asleep.
