Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3) Page 18

  If the urban legend was true – that there was an underground system that crossed districts, that evaded the barriers put in place by the Global Council – then the prospects truly were as terrifying as the search into finding them had constituted. A search that had led to rumours being quickly squashed by the authorities as mere scaremongering.

  She remembered the newsfeeds from when she was younger – when reporters went down into the so-called tunnels with researchers and law enforcement teams. They always came up against a dead end. Just sewage or drainage systems, they’d claimed – not used for anything other than their intention. Others whispered of secret concealed doorways and tunnels, but none were found. So the tunnel had remained an urban legend. Until now.

  And she’d know where it was.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rone said, though she didn’t believe him. ‘But I do know the network down there is a labyrinth, so don’t be getting any smart ideas. Keep on the path and you’ll be okay. Don’t veer off course and do not unlock any doors. Being a serryn might save you from any vampire run-ins down there, but you come across a rogue lycan and you’re going to be grateful for that knife. Let alone if you come across a con. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you we’re talking murderers, sex offenders – real scum of the earth.’

  The cons: the hard core of the criminal underworld. The convicts deemed too much to handle for the penitentiary in Lowtown. The ones beyond rehabilitation. The ones subsequently abandoned by their authorities and banished to fend for themselves in Blackthorn as food supplies, let alone punchbags, for the notoriously less tolerant third species. It was an attempt on the authorities’ part to be a deterrent. But ‘out of sight, out of mind’ seemed to be the Global Council’s motto. Once in, they never came out – tagged so that even an attempt to cross the border into Lowtown would release a lethal neurotransmitter straight into their system. It was a brutal approach, but another so-called ‘necessity’.

  The cons were easy enough to spot – all marked on the inner wrist, sometimes spanning the forearm, with a sequence of numbers that specified the crimes they had committed. Many chose to hide the tattoos, some went to extreme lengths to remove them, but it was the ones who openly exposed their history who were the ones to be wary of. They wore it like a medal and, in turn, that made them the ringleaders. The fact it made them more of a target for vampires – the ones who resented the dregs of humanity invading their territory – made them even more intrepid. They lived every day on the edge and never expected to make it to the following dawn. Those who did became more arrogant each day.

  They hung around mainly in the south – the parts not owned by the Dehains or Kane Malloy. On the whole they could be avoided and, up to now, she had done so successfully.

  ‘You come across any of those and you’re not getting out,’ Rone added.

  Suddenly his motivation for disclosing that exit route made even more sense. ‘Is that what you’re hoping? That I won’t make it out? That your problem will be solved?’

  ‘I’m telling you your only way out of here. It’s up to you whether you take it. But if you do get through, remember our pact. And if you don’t…’ He shrugged.

  ‘And when Jask finds me gone? He saw me talking to you, Rone. He’s not stupid.’

  ‘But neither will he have proof. He’s not going to kill me without proof.’

  ‘And is that what he’s capable of – killing you?’

  ‘There’s nothing Jask isn’t capable of.’

  ‘Like killing his mate Ellen?’

  Startled, Rone retracted like he’d been scorched. ‘Do we have deal or not?’ he asked, his tone now laced with hostility. Hostility that made her want to escape the confines of that room even more.

  It seemed Ellen’s death was a sensitive issue for everyone.

  She nodded. ‘We have a deal.’

  But he still didn’t look relieved. ‘Be out in the quadrant at ten and I’ll give you the nod when it’s done. After that, you’re on your own.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sophia pushed open the door to the poolroom, the subdued echo instantly rebounding off her eardrums.

  She kept a safe distance from the edge of the pool as she headed to what she guessed, and hoped, was the shallow end.

  Stood a couple of feet from the edge, she stared ahead at the sheen of still black water. Her insides twisted, her palms already coated in perspiration at the very prospect of what she was going to do.

  ‘Come on, Phia,’ she growled under her breath. ‘It’s water. Just water.’

  The very substance she had spent much of her childhood gliding through with ease, winning trophies for her school and out-swimming the best of them.

  She needed to swim again. She needed to feel control again. More than anything, she needed to get her head back under water and own it.

  She stepped up to the water’s edge. She’d have to feel ground beneath her feet. If she didn’t, she knew she couldn’t do it.

  She sat on the edge of the pool and tentatively slid her legs into it, the cool darkness instantly encompassing them.

  But she withdrew from the abyss as quickly as she had entered it. She recoiled her thighs back against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

  There was no way she could do it.

  No way.

  But the other option was to stay in the compound. To be used by Jask however he saw fit. To leave her sister in the hands of Caleb and Jake Dehain. To let The Alliance work out for themselves that their cover had been blown, if it wasn’t too late already.

  Abby had said they were only going to lie low for two days. That time was already up.

  And all she had to do to avert disaster was get into some harmless swimming pool.

  She slipped her feet back into the water and clutched the pool’s edge. She stared down into the darkness. No underwater plants, no fallen branches, no uneven lake bed.

  She yanked her tunic over her head, took a steadying breath of grit determination and eased herself sideways into the tepid water.

  She felt that same wrench of fear in her chest. Earlier it had felt as though the metaphorical plaster had been ripped off painfully fast. Now it was being dragged off an excruciating millimetre at a time.

  Still clutching on to the side, she tentatively lowered herself into the water until a knobbled surface met the soles of her feet.

  Her pulse raced, her breaths erratic as she rested her head on her forearms whilst she counted to three – not once, but twice before she built up the courage to let go and to turn around.

  Aside from the ripples she had created, the water remained perfectly placid.

  She lowered herself slowly until she was covered to her shoulders. But still she remained plastered against the wall as she crouched like a small mammal hiding.

  Or an army operative under cover.

  Because that’s what she was. She was a soldier. A fighter. Not a coward. Never a coward. But as she stared at the dark water around her again, nothing could suppress the panic.

  She needed to try and walk. She needed to face the darkness and walk through the water.

  Counting to three, she moved cautiously forward whilst maintaining her crouched position.

  She kept her eyes wide and wary, feeling forward with her feet before resolving whether to take another step or not. She ploughed deeper and deeper until she gradually had to stand to keep her head above water, the ripples and occasional splashes less audible than her own breathing.

  When she was finally at her full height, she paused for breath.

  She should have stuck to the side of the pool – she knew that. But there was no use in a safety net. She needed to get over herself and fast.

  She took another step forward, and another, her eyes fixed ahead at the depths.

  She was going to get there. She was going to feel nothing beneath her feet and she wasn’t going to panic.

  Like riding a bike. Like tying up shoelaces. Once learned, never…

/>   She lost her footing, the incline too unexpected, too slippery, too severe, for her not too. She slipped backwards, the water rushing over her face.

  She kicked, instinctively pulling herself back from the precipice, her arms flapping ungraciously, causing the water to splash down on her like rain.

  She swam as fast as she could to the side, to safety.

  She slammed her forearms onto the pool’s edge, her head buried in her arms again, shock stealing the energy she needed to pull herself out of the water completely.

  She let go only to clutch the back of her ankle, her calf – both throbbing and stinging from what she had no doubt was a nasty graze.

  But she wouldn’t let the tears consume her – not this time. She bit them back, she bit everything back that made her want to give up. Because she was not going to give up.

  She’d let the shock subside then she’d try again.

  She had to.

  She pushed her hair back from her eyes and lifted her head, stared at the boots that stood less than two feet away. She flinched and looked up to see Jask gazing down at her.

  ‘Skinny-dipping alone in the middle of lycan territory. Very brave.’ He crouched down. ‘Facing a few demons, Phia?’

  ‘A girl has to find a way to pass the time somehow.’

  He smiled. She wished he wouldn’t. That coupled with recollections of his body pressed against hers, the magical fluidity of his fingers, the sound of his voice playing over her skin, only exacerbated the tension filling her chest at being faced with him again.

  He stood up. He pulled his T-shirt over his head before unfastening his jeans at the same time as kicking off his boots.

  She recoiled back from the pool side as he slid off his shorts. A split second later, he dived smoothly and fluidly into the depths of the water.

  She spun to face him as fast as the water resistance would allow.

  The surface rippled but he didn’t come up. She couldn’t see any hint of him at all. Her breaths were shallow as she scanned the surface of the water, turning left and right for any sign of where he might appear.

  Only seconds could have passed, but it felt like minutes.

  She spun one hundred and eighty as soon as she heard the splash behind her to see, to her relief, Jask rising out of the water.

  She watched him in silent awe as he waded the few feet towards her, the water barely covering his hips, his upper chest and shoulders glistening. The shadows emphasised every curve in those powerful arms as he brushed his hands back through his hair. The same perfect body she’d had sex with only a couple of hours before. The possibility seemed unreal.

  He shook his hair, getting rid of more droplets – though she wouldn’t have put it past him as his mocking of her earlier jibe about shaking dry.

  ‘So what happened earlier?’ he asked, drawing level. ‘You can clearly swim.’

  ‘I panicked, that’s all.’

  He waded in front of her before pushing himself fluidly back into the water, far enough that she knew he was treading water above the precipice that took her under.

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Just something that happened when I was a kid. No big deal.’

  ‘It looked like a big deal.’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘Because it does to you.’

  The hint of compassion in his words threw her. But she dismissed it only as him wanting to know what went on in her head.

  But there was no way he was getting close again.

  ‘I fell in a river, that’s all,’ she said. ‘I got caught up in some plants.’

  ‘How did you get out?’

  ‘I just did.’ She stared back into the scepticism in his eyes. More so she realised her simple explanation only exacerbated what could now be deemed as a major overreaction earlier. ‘If you must know, I used to be a brilliant swimmer,’ she declared to save some face at least.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I could swim two lengths whilst holding my breath.’

  ‘Not bad for a human,’ he said, swimming back a little deeper.

  ‘Easy, Jask. That was almost another compliment.’

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘Third of the night.’

  ‘You’re counting.’

  She realised she had been – only now she had let it slip. ‘I’m attentive to detail.’

  He swam back towards her, barely making a splash. ‘Then you would have noticed I’m also good swimmer,’ he said, stopping in front of her. ‘That’s one similarity we definitely share with our heritage. Very competent in the water.’

  ‘I had noticed.’

  ‘More than capable of rescuing you again should you need me to.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself – it’s hardly the Atlantic Ocean.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘So why are you too scared to swim to the deep end?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I’m just acclimatising.’

  He moved forward from the precipice and stood up. He held out his hands for her to take.

  She stared at them then back up at him. ‘What?’ But the look in his eyes said it all. ‘Like I’d trust you.’

  ‘If I wanted to drown you, I’d hardly have to drag you into the deep end to do it.’

  She looked at his hands again, then back at him.

  ‘I ravished you brutally in my cellar,’ he said with a playful smirk. ‘The least I can do is help restore your confidence in water.’

  ‘Ravish? How very gentlemanly.’

  ‘Oh, we both know I’m no gentleman. But I am more than capable of stopping you from drowning. Come on, Phia,’ he said. ‘You’re anything but weak. And I know you’re itching to prove it.’

  She looked at his hands again. It was a dare she couldn’t help but rise to. She reached out and let him take her hands in his, the gentle strength in them surprisingly reassuring. Hands that had so expertly brought her to the peak of climax. But, somehow, this felt even more personal.

  He stepped backwards until she sensed he was standing on the edge of the precipice again.

  He caught hold of her hips and pulled her close. ‘Wrap your legs around me.’

  ‘A little intimate, don’t you think?’

  ‘If you want to see it that way,’ he said. ‘But I’ll have a better hold on you.’

  He lowered in the water, his gaze unflinching.

  After only a moment’s more hesitation, she wrapped her legs around him, trying to ignore his arousal despite the coolness of the water.

  She gripped his upper arms as he eased back into the water. But Jask treaded the depths with natural competence, one arm helping him keep balance, the other around her waist.

  ‘I’m sorry I caused you so much distress throwing you in here,’ he said.

  The sincerity in his eyes, let alone his second apology of the night, momentarily took her aback. She shrugged. ‘What was the alternative – being put across your knee like you threatened earlier?’

  ‘You would have deserved it after the way you spoke to me and Corbin. You and your death wish.’

  ‘You weren’t going to do anything.’

  ‘Know that for sure, do you?’

  ‘Like I said, I’ve seen you both with Tuly and Solstice. I must say, I’m very impressed with the reputation you guys keep up on the outside, considering.’

  ‘Everyone has their dark side, Phia. Me and Corbin no less.’

  And some darker than most it seemed, if Tuly was telling the truth.

  ‘I was still proved right though, wasn’t I? You’re quite the lover, Jask Tao.’

  ‘And you were a lot more responsive than you should have been, Phia. Than your kind’s reputation dictates. You should have been able to switch off in there. But you didn’t.’

  ‘Faking isn’t difficult in my line of work.’

  There was something that flashed in his eyes. Something that she couldn’t read. ‘There was nothing fake about that.’


  ‘Had enough experience to know, have you?’

  ‘I think you know that answer for yourself now.’

  He held her gaze until she felt the need to look away.

  ‘Tell me the truth, Phia. You haven’t been in Blackthorn long, have you?’

  She couldn’t go down that route again, not with how dangerously close he’d started to veer towards it in the cell. And especially not now that she was on the cusp of getting out. ‘You’re convinced about that, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ve seen the evidence of what you’re capable of, but out there on the streets every night? No way. You’d be dead already.’

  ‘You keep forgetting vampires aren’t immune like you.’

  ‘I would have heard something, Phia.’

  ‘Why? You think people really care? You think anybody cares what goes on here in Blackthorn? Vampires die every day – there’s not the time, resources or inclination to investigate them all. It’s a serryn’s perfect playground. And like I keep saying – I’m good at what I do.’

  ‘You’re too soft. The way you reacted when I held you down on the wasteland, when I threw you in here, your reaction in the cell – there’s nothing anywhere near hard enough in you.’ He paused. ‘Why leave Summerton behind for this?’

  ‘I have my reasons.’

  ‘Reasons other than being a serryn?’

  ‘A serryn that you clearly need. Come on, Jask – confession time. I think it’s time you let me in on why, don’t you?’

  But this time he didn’t cut her dead. This time she saw a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. ‘What’s it worth?’ He eased her off him to encourage her to tread water for herself whilst still keeping a hold on her hands. ‘Keep your eyes on me,’ he said. She tried not to panic, but couldn’t help but squeeze his hands tighter. Once she started to reach a controlled rhythm, he continued. ‘So, what’s it worth?’

  ‘What it’s worth is time. The way I see it, we’ve reached stalemate. Only I don’t want to be here any longer than you want me here. So you tell me what you want me for, and maybe we can come to an arrangement.’

  ‘No arrangement. No deal. You’re just going to do as I tell you. When the time comes.’