“Let’s just say that I’m officially an antique. Age isn’t something that comes up often in our circles. Most demons and fae creatures have long lifespans. Then there are immortals like vampires and angels. There are others as well…” Mara looked over at Katia, narrowing her eyes as she took her in. “You’re something different.”
Katia nodded and replied quietly. “Yeah, I’m something different all right. I just found out what I am. I didn’t get a choice about it either.”
Mara sighed and took Katia’s hand. “I’m sorry about that. I know what it’s like to have the life you know ripped away from you without warning. If you ever need a friend, I’d like to be one.”
“Thank you,” Katia said with a smile. “And we have someone in common now too.” She motioned toward Sergei’s body. “I meant to ask, why were you sitting down here on the floor? Why weren't you hanging out upstairs with B and Sam?”
“Honestly, I didn’t want your friend to go through this alone. Logically, I know he’s out cold right now, but he should have someone with him. Baal told me you might not be able to get here, so I stayed.”
Overwhelmed by gratitude, Katia leaned in and hugged her, marvelling that in this crazy new world she’d experienced more kindness and selflessness from demons than most humans exhibited in a lifetime. “You’re amazing. Thank you for taking such good care of him for me.”
The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stone steps made both women turn as B appeared before them. Katia had only been in his company a couple of times, but in both instances he’d been a cocky smartass with confidence to spare. The man standing before them now looked shy. Turning her head to look at Mara, she saw a twin look of insecurity on the lovely vampire’s face. She’d begun twisting her hands together again, which was clearly a nervous habit. Smiling inwardly, Katia decided that if she and Luc came out of this whole debacle in one piece, she’d do her best to figure out if there was any potential there. Both Mara and B had gone out of their way to help her and her friend. Maybe she could do something to help them with a bit of matchmaking.
Clearing his throat, B broke the silence. “Katia, Luc sent me down here to get you. The two of you need to head out right away. We’re not sure if this is the best place for you guys to hole up. There are just too many demons coming in and out. Sorry you can’t wait around to see Sergei wake up, but we’ll find a way to get word to you when he does.”
Nodding, Katia turned back to Mara and gave her another quick hug. She joined B and they headed back toward the doorway together, though it didn’t escape her notice that he glanced back at Mara one last time before they moved out of sight.
Chapter Nineteen
The small white cloud puffed out in front of him as his breath crystallized in the cold. He stood silently gazing out the single window of his cell, the glass and wrought iron bars covered with frost and the oily black ooze that bled from the vines criss-crossing the opening, blocking most of the view. What he could see of the frozen wasteland beyond his window matched the state of his soul to a tee. Snow fell softly on the endless expanse of the blood-red lake. His soul was as empty as the landscape, his heart frozen.
He had no idea how long he’d been here; it was the only life he’d ever known. In his younger years, he’d spent hours spinning tales of where he’d come from, dreaming of the day that he would finally leave this place and experience…something. He was desperate for a taste of the world he read about in his many books, for contact with another living being, for a name. What other living creature didn’t even have a name?
He must have been someone at some point…belonged to someone. He had passed through many states during his existence in this place…sadness, hope, anger, and finally, resignation to a fate of eternal solitude and loneliness. The one kindness the Master had shown had been in teaching him to read. He’d been able to transport himself into a world apart from the dark, damp coldness that surrounded him. By the light of his candelabra, he had devoured thousands of books in his search for companionship and escape. The Count of Monte Cristo had quickly become a favorite.
He stepped away from the window and made his way back over to the small table in the center of the room. He picked up the dog-eared volume and flipped to a passage he’d read over and over. “He had so long ceased to have any intercourse with the world that he looked upon himself as dead.” He knew the feeling. It still startled him when he spoke aloud upon the Master’s visits; the sound of his own voice was odd and unfamililar.
He’d thought of suicide many times over the course of the years…always to be stopped by his one saving grace. The girl in his portraits. Who was she? He’d seen her in his dreams for as long as he could recall. Passing his eyes around the room he took in the hundreds of charcoal drawings. They started with the girl in childhood and followed her through her life to adulthood. Was she just a figment of his imagination, created by his mind to provide him with companionship? Why else would he draw someone that appeared to be aging in tandem with himself? In his dreams he felt as though he knew her. It was as though
