Chapter 12

Wake.

Darci came to feeling groggy, her head heavy as if she were hung over. Her body was stiff and frozen, muscles aching as she moved. The floor beneath her was cold and unyielding. Her fingers carefully explored the area, brushing across rough concrete tiles and the damp soil between them. She couldn't even see her own hand as it moved through the impenetrable dark.

The voice that had entered her mind, telling her to wake, had departed once more, and there was no sound of any other life. Not even the scuttle of a beetle or the call of a night bird cut through the deafening silence. She was alone in the darkness. She wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing them against the cold.

She hoped Will had gotten out. She was certain it had been vampires who had kidnapped her. There had been no sound of footsteps behind her, and her assailant had held her with no effort at all. Perhaps they wanted her to tell them where Will was. If so, they were out of luck. I might die here. She took a moment to consider that. Maybe she would. Once they found she was of no use to them, they might let her go. Then again, they might not, and she might never leave this place alive. For the first time, she was glad Will had not told her his destination. If she had to die, she could at least do so knowing she hadn't taken Will with her, knowing she had thwarted the plans of this vampire-king.

Even so, thinking that she could soon be dead brought hot, stinging tears to her eyes. She was so young still and she had so many plans, so many things she wanted to accomplish. She had never thought to find herself locked up in the dark, waiting to die.

After a few moments, she could bear it no longer and decided to at least find out something about where she was being kept. You aren't dead yet! she told herself sternly. If she gave up now, she might as well slit her own throat and be done with it. If she wanted to live, she couldn't afford to just sit around, wallowing in self-pity. She had to act. She needed to be ready for whatever might happen.

Steeling herself, she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the icy pain in her legs. In getting up, her back had come into contact with a wall. She leant against it, the damp and slightly crumbling brick so coarse beneath her fingers it chafed her skin.

Taking slow steps, she followed the wall along. It was only a few paces before she reached a corner and she turned with it, letting the new wall guide her forward. She hadn't moved far before another corner made her turn once more. This time she felt the surface change beneath her hands, rough brick replaced by smooth steel. A door. She explored the surface, trying to locate the handle. After a brief search, her hand closed around it. She paused, taking a deep breath, holding it in as she turned the metal knob. It wouldn't budge.

I'm sorry, it is locked at present. I had hoped to meet you tonight, but business has called me away so I shall have to deny you the pleasure of my company until tomorrow night. There is food a few paces in front of you if you are hungry.

Darci shook her head, her hand still grasping the door handle as she tried to rid herself of the voice. Having this other presence inside her mind was a violation and she felt tainted by the contact, but at least she now had some information to work with.

She had not been shut up in here then forgotten; they still intended to speak to her. She would have to bear another twenty-four hours at least in her gloomy cage, not a thought that brought her any comfort. Plus, there was food somewhere nearby, unless that had been a lie to give her false hope.

She sank down onto her hands and knees, the cold of the floor burning uncomfortably through her skin and making her fingers twitch. She inched forward, leading with her hands, until her fingers hit against something on the ground in front of her. She touched the edges; it was a plate. Pulling it closer, she sat down with her legs crossed beneath her to examine it.

There was a chip in the rim of the crockery that caught her skin, but then she found herself handling something that was unmistakably bread, though it felt hard and crusty. She leant forward again, her hands fumbling in the pitch black for a moment before colliding with another container. The impact made it rock from side to side and liquid sloshed as she grabbed hold, steadying it.

She lifted the cool metal jug to her lips and took a small, tentative sip. Adelaide Cocktail. If she hadn't been so parched, she might have been tempted to spit it out. She'd never been able to stomach tap water in Adelaide. There was something indescribable about the taste, something chemical and repugnant. On this occasion she had no choice; it was a case of drink it or go thirsty.

She picked up the stale bread and broke a small piece off, popping it into her mouth. It was dry and rough on her tongue, and it took several minutes of chewing before she could force it down her throat. Even then she had to clamp a hand over her mouth so she didn't throw up.

She ate as much as she could bear, washing it down with half of the remaining water. Time had long since ceased to be measurable, and she had no idea how many minutes had passed since she'd woken up. Was it still night or was the sun now shining somewhere outside, beyond these walls? She didn't want to lie down on that frozen floor again, and yet, she knew she should at least try to get some sleep. She needed to conserve her strength. She stretched out on her side, one hand under her head to at least keep that part of her off the floor and stop herself from losing too much more heat, and then she closed her eyes.