Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3) Page 13

  She passed the central stone table, not failing to notice the straps that hung limply from that too.

  Stopping in front of one of the coffins, she examined the soft, brown strips of leather – seemingly positioned to bind the neck, forearms, wrists, waist, hips, thighs and calves. She reached out to touch one.

  ‘They’re for punishment.’

  Sophia’s heart leapt a fraction before the rest of her did. She spun around, her startled gaze snapping to the doorway to where Jask stood in the opaque light. He was still in the same clothing he’d worn out on the pitch but his hair glistened as if he’d showered.

  ‘Lycans hate to be contained,’ he said. ‘We’re extremely claustrophobic. Once you’ve been in there, you don’t usually commit a misdemeanour again.’

  ‘You put your own in these?’

  ‘They’re as much a deterrent as in active use.’

  There was something different about him – almost as if he’d been struck with a new vigour with the pending nightfall. If it was possible, he seemed sharper, more relaxed – almost more alert to her.

  She withdrew from the coffin. ‘That’s a somewhat tyrannical approach for someone who’s supposed to care about his pack,’ she said, folding her arms.

  ‘That’s a somewhat condemnatory tone coming from a serryn.’

  ‘We do what we have to.’

  He leaned back against the wall just inside of the door. ‘What you choose to do.’

  She strolled towards the table, sending a wary glance in his direction.

  She wondered how long he’d been without Ellen. What had happened to her. If they’d been together long. Why he’d not found another. All questions far too personal for her to dare ask. And questions she had no place pondering.

  Facing him, she perched against the end of the table nearest him and cocked her head towards it. ‘A bit kinky, isn’t it?’

  ‘You want to try it for size?’

  ‘Is that your thing, Jask? Strapping people down?’

  ‘Does that worry you, Phia?’

  Hearing her name slip from his lips for the first time sent a shiver through her.

  ‘That is your name, right?’ he said, a glimmer of amusement lacing his eyes. ‘P-H-I-A, Tuly tells me.’

  He seemed further amused by her silence as she struggled for a retort.

  ‘Do you want to see inside one of the containment rooms?’ he asked. ‘As you’re clearly curious as to how things run around here.’

  ‘You have morphers?’

  Now this was a useful piece of insider information. A very illegal and subsequently risky piece of information that he shouldn’t have been disclosing to her.

  He took a step back into the corridor, hand held out to his right.

  There was something behind his eyes that spoke of a challenge – a challenge that she had the feeling was a test. He glanced down at her chest then back in her eyes, clearly having sensed the escalated pulse rate – clearly wanting her to know as such.

  He expected her to say no.

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Why not?’

  She followed him out of the room, feigning as much nonchalance as she could as he led her to the final door in the corridor. He descended the worn, wooden slatted steps into the darkness below, Sophia close behind.

  There were no windows in the subterranean level. And it was cold, much colder. The silence was unearthly, the scent of damp rife.

  He switched on three wall-mounted lights as he led the way, the cord still swinging as she passed, the white light only adding to the chill of the narrow stone corridor.

  They passed metal door after metal door both left and right, until Jask stopped at the one in the far left-hand corner.

  He pushed it open, indicating for Sophia to enter first.

  As she stepped over the threshold into the darkness, she heard another click. More soft white light entered the room, but not enough to reach the corners.

  What resembled a prison cell dominated the top right-hand corner of the room – maybe twenty-by-twenty-foot square. The two inner walls were stone, the two outer ones bars that were drilled into the floor and ceiling. A single door entered the side directly ahead. It was best described as a cage and she guessed that, technically, that’s exactly what it was – only the entrants were voluntary.

  ‘How many of these are there?’ she asked, looking down at the double mattress on the floor within.

  ‘Ten along this stretch. More than enough.’ He indicated towards the open door. ‘Try it.’

  She looked across her shoulder at him as he drew level, the wariness in her eyes undoubtedly visible.

  He headed over and stepped inside ahead of her.

  After a moment’s more hesitation, knowing only too well that he could have dragged her in there if he’d wanted to, she followed behind him.

  Though only separated from the rest of the room by the bars, it felt more confined in there, even with the door open. The feeling was oppressive – as if decades of negative energy had been stored up in one tiny place.

  She tried to ignore the sudden sense of claustrophobia as she stepped deeper into the cage, deeper into the darkness.

  ‘How long do they spend in here?’

  ‘Two days before the full moon – that’s the really tetchy time – the day during and then the recuperation days after.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘They sleep it off. Eat. Relax. Then spend the rest of the month like anyone else.’

  ‘Are they the ones that refuse to take the herbs?’

  ‘Only one. The rest are the unfortunate ones who are immune to the remedy.’

  ‘So it’s true. There are some it doesn’t work for. But they won’t take the meds?’

  Jask leaned back beside the exit. He coiled his hands around the bars above his head, the motion emphasising the curves of his bare arms, his solid shoulders, the toned chest beneath his black vest.

  She wasn’t sure if the relaxed stance was supposed to create the same effect in her. From her flush of arousal, it had failed.

  ‘If the Global Council offered you pills, but they refused to tell you anything about what they contained – would you take them?’ he asked.

  ‘Those who refuse should be declared. Those meds are obligatory for the immune ones. The LCU would rip this place apart if they knew. What you’re doing is dangerous. You’re putting this community at risk. What if one got out?’

  ‘Have you ever heard of a morphed lycan on the loose in Blackthorn?’

  ‘The two that killed Kane Malloy’s sister,’ she reminded him. She stepped up to the threshold of the dark recess in the top right-hand corner and peered into the tiny space that housed a metal sink directly ahead, a toilet around the corner before the room ended in a shower.

  ‘That was different, as you well know. They did opt into the meds and were starved of them.’

  She turned to face him. ‘But you let them take them. Doesn’t that go against your lycan code?’

  ‘As opposed to forcing them to face morphing?’

  ‘Is it really that painful?’

  ‘For the first twenty or so times, if the body doesn’t give in before then. Females of our species say it’s ten times worse than childbirth.’

  She raised her eyebrows slightly as her imagination filled in the gaps as it so often did, having never experienced the latter, and now never having the prospect of experiencing it. ‘So what about the one you mentioned that refuses both the meds and your herbs? Why do they opt for it?’

  ‘Because there are still some who think it is intended. I have to respect their viewpoint.’

  ‘No, what you have to do is keep your pack in check. What you’re doing here is irresponsible.’

  ‘I’ll try not to lose any sleep over your concerns.’

  Now that she had seen it all, she should have left. Or at least attempted to. But she didn’t want to. Instead, she leaned against the wall opposite him, her hands at the small of her back. She glanced aroun
d the cell, trying to envision spending four days down there. ‘So what about you? Do the herbs work on you, or do you spend each full moon down here?’

  He wandered over to the mattress against the wall and picked up what looked like a small tennis ball. He flipped it in his hand before bouncing it against the floor on his way over to her. ‘The herbs work on me.’

  He bounced the ball against the wall she leaned against, it rebounding back for him to catch easily in one hand.

  ‘Have you ever morphed?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, throwing the ball against the wall, this time right next to her. ‘When I was younger. Before the regulations changed our freedom to do so. Before I had the responsibility of this pack.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  He raked her swiftly with his gaze as if debating whether to answer. ‘A century and a half, plus some.’

  ‘You lycans get about five years to every one of ours, right? But you stay at your peak for most of it – like the vampires do.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  The repeat bounce and rebound of ball becoming rhythmic, a thud not unlike her own pulse rate, as if he was tuning into it and showing her so.

  ‘That was an impressive performance earlier. The game,’ she said, trying to ignore what she guessed was now a clever taunt – rebounding and catching, rebounding and catching, the rhythm becoming hypnotic.

  ‘It’s good for teamwork. Good for focus. It helps the young ones to channel and develop their responses. It gets them to be aware of each other and their pack. It was a game that we used to use to train for hunting.’

  His rhythm picked up pace, her pulse rate ironically doing the same in the otherwise dominating silence.

  ‘You used to hunt?’ she asked, trying to stay focused.

  ‘When I needed to.’

  ‘Humans?’

  He glanced at her. ‘When I needed to.’

  She felt herself prickle at the subtle intimidation. ‘And why would you need to? For food?’

  ‘Trust me, you don’t taste that nice.’

  ‘But tell me, is it true there was talk of the Global Council trying to get you on side when they first brought the regulations into being? That they wanted to develop you into being the perfect fighting machines for their cause? Faster, even better responses and the animalistic lack of conscience to rip your enemies apart – they wanted you to help keep order amongst the vampires and back up the Third Species Control Division. Like police dogs, only more expendable. But that you all refused despite the extra privileges like they offered the vampires’ Higher Order?’ She looked around. ‘Admirable to your own maybe that you declined. But many would say stupid. Still, you secured a nice kennel here. Very cosy.’

  She expected him to bite at that one. But he didn’t. His calmness only added to her unease – like the steady gaze of viper just before it strikes.

  ‘It’ll do for now,’ he said.

  ‘For now? Don’t tell me you’re one of the optimists who believe this system is temporary? Do you believe these vampire prophecies?’

  ‘I know it won’t always be like this.’

  ‘But surely if the vampires come into power, it’ll be all over for you.’

  ‘Sounds like more speculation to me.’

  ‘I’m just stating the obvious.’

  ‘We may be in the minority in this locale, but don’t mistake us for the underdog.’

  She couldn’t help but smirk. ‘Your words, not mine.’

  He picked up pace with the ball, almost as if he knew the personal jibe had escalated her heartbeat a fraction more – the act in itself provoking a further increase.

  Unlike humans, the third species could control their peripheral nervous system. Always had been able to. The vampires were particularly adept at managing their heartbeat, speeding it up if they chose to, or more frequently slowing it down – the same as they could hold their breath. It was used often in attack so that the enemy couldn’t hear them coming. The lycans weren’t as efficient at it as the vampires, but were certainly capable of it to some extent.

  Just as they all had accelerated healing. Nothing near the rate of the Higher Order – vampire royalty – though, who had secured their place in Midtown with their offer to help the human race. An offer as flawed as the Global Council’s intentions by writing their privileged position into the regulations – for as long as the Higher Order remained useful.

  ‘Have you been in this area since the beginning or were you one of the ones shipped in when the regulations came into being?’ she asked.

  ‘I was shipped in.’

  ‘Where were you from originally?’

  ‘Western region. Like many packs, mine were separated. A collection of us were sent here.’

  ‘Is it true that the Higher Order never consulted other third species over the outing? That they just went ahead with it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You must hate them. Especially with them subjecting you to all of this. I mean, it’s okay for your lycan buddies in locales where they’re in the majority, but you really got the short straw, didn’t you?’

  ‘We do okay.’

  ‘But you could do so much better. Still, it was a very clever idea of the Global Council – always ensuring there was a minority group in every locale: make sure none of you rebel against the other. Civil war in one locale and the minorities suffer in another, right?’

  ‘Ingenious,’ he said, his tone laced with sarcasm as he picked up pace with the ball again.

  ‘So, how come you assumed leadership when you came here? There must have been others vying for the position.’

  ‘One or two. We managed to work it out.’

  ‘Did you fight to the death? I hear that’s what lycans do.’

  He glanced across at her. ‘Does Corbin look dead to you?’

  ‘He fought you for the title?’ she asked, unable to conceal her surprise.

  ‘Amongst others.’ He looked across at her. ‘You look shocked.’

  ‘Because you’re so close.’

  ‘We fought fairly. I won. Corbin had the option to leave the pack if he chose. Or he could be my second in command.’

  ‘And he doesn’t mind that you won?’

  ‘It’s not done for personal accolade, Phia. It’s done to decide who is best to lead the pack. It’s in all our best interests to choose the most suitable.’

  ‘I bet that was quite the battle.’ She paused. ‘What would you have done if Corbin had won?’

  He frowned, clearly never having been asked the question before.

  ‘Because you wouldn’t have stuck around, would you?’ she said. ‘You would have chosen to leave.’

  ‘And what makes you say that?’

  ‘Some want to be leaders, some are born that way. You’re definitely the latter. I don’t think you’re capable of playing second in command.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Are you going to deny it?’

  He bounced the ball against the wall again.

  ‘So do you think the right lycan won?’ she persisted.

  He frowned. ‘What kind of question is that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m curious as to why you let those lycans set up for killing Arana hand themselves in when you clearly knew the truth. Why not tell them to go to a higher authority? Why let them stay inside for fourteen years?’

  ‘And what higher authority is that, Phia? The Global Council? Because they’re the only ones higher than the TSCD, as you well know. And even if I did have the ways and means to get direct communication with them, they’re really going to send one of their impartial investigators in here to interview two lycans with the sole purpose of exposing corruption amongst the very system they put in place, aren’t they?’

  She shrugged. ‘Caitlin Parish exposed them and she worked for them.’

  He continued to rebound the ball off the wall, but now he was doing so a little harder.

  ‘Do you think it’s true
what some are saying?’ she asked, the perfect opportunity having arisen again. ‘That she’s sleeping with Kane Malloy?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That would be really fucked-up, wouldn’t it? Really fucked-up. Them sleeping together – with everything her father, her stepfather, let alone her boyfriend did in setting up Kane’s sister. Come on, Jask. Spill. You were involved with him. You must know. What really goes on in Kane Malloy’s head, huh? Putting those agents behind bars just doesn’t feel right. It’s not his style, from what I’ve heard.’

  ‘Everyone’s got an opinion on Kane’s style.’

  ‘But you know, don’t you?’

  ‘You ask too many questions.’

  ‘I have a curious nature. It’s an affliction. And this isn’t your style either, is it, Jask? Tucking those responsible away with the very authorities you despise as much as the rest of Blackthorn does. I know you would have liked to have dealt with them personally.’

  His gaze lingered. ‘Like I said – you ask too many questions.’

  She hesitated, wondering how far to push it. But these were questions everyone was asking. Everyone who had watched the court case as avidly as she did. And the more insight she got into the psychology of those self-nominated third-species leaders, the better, especially with the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach – instinct telling her Jask still wanted retribution.

  ‘I’m right though, aren’t I? This isn’t over,’ she said. ‘Putting those agents behind bars wasn’t part of the plan. Not yours anyway. Why do I get the feeling it’s not just the TSCD who aren’t happy about Kane and Caitlin’s liaison? Why do I also get the feeling Kane’s not the only one who wanted Caitlin dead? But that agent stuck her neck on the line for you, Jask. She turned in her family, let alone her boss, to do the right thing.’

  ‘Or she did what she could purely to save the lives of those she cared about. Depends how you look at it.’

  ‘You think she played both you and Kane?’

  ‘I think we’ve discussed this enough.’

  ‘But aren’t you just a little concerned that now you’ve given evidence against the TSCD, now they know you knew all along about the set-up – that you disclosed the truth to Kane in the first place – aren’t you scared they’ll turn on you?’