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This fortress was hell on earth when monsters were in residence, but empty—apart from inconspicuous staff and black-suited guards—it was eerie.
No sounds of pain around shadowy corners. No sick laughter as a Master whipped a jewel. No awful beatings in the gardens.
I hadn’t noticed how much every scream and whimper curdled my stomach. The calcification around my heart at the sounds of abuse chipped away a little, thanks to birdsong and silence.
A sharp-eyed guard watched me as I padded barefoot through the dining room. He didn’t stop me, and another guard took up his glower as I cut across the foyer and down the stone corridor leading toward Dr Belford’s surgery on the ground floor.
I added each guard to the ongoing tally in my head.
So far, I’d counted twelve on the ground floor and five scattered in the gardens.
I had no idea how many patrolled the upper levels or the battlements.
For the past few days, I’d started keeping a record of guards and staff, adding their positions to the schematics in my head.
As much as I hoped Henri would snap out of his strange silence and reveal he was still good, deep, deep inside, it wasn’t in my nature to sit around and wait.
We had three weeks before the Masters returned. Who knew when Victor would fly home and if we stood a chance at getting out…this was our best opportunity.
My feet—healed from their shallow cuts from running in caves and forests—slowed outside the carved door of the surgery.
I shuddered with memories of that first day. Of Peter flirting with the doctor and nurse. Of his false happiness doing its best to hide just how afraid and hurt he was.
God.
My heart ached as I knocked.
Guilt pressed heavily.
A week since I last saw him. It wasn’t good enough.
The door swung open. Melanie Belford stared coldly. “Oh, it’s you.”
I flinched at her warm welcome. “C-Can I come in?”
Looking past me, she scanned the empty corridor. “Your Master isn’t with you, I hope. I’m not exactly a fan.”
“No.”
She frowned. “That’s a first. Letting you wander around on your own.”
I shrugged. “I suppose he feels I’m safe enough without other Masters staying.”
“Safe?” She clucked her tongue and moved aside to let me in. “I don’t think it’s anything to do with your safety, Ily, but more about his demented need to possess you.”
Ily.
My name caught me off guard.
Henri had barely talked to me since the night I’d taken pleasure from him. The talkative man who’d broken me with his secrets had turned into a stoic statue who barely grunted responses. And when he did deign to speak to me…he never used my name.
A prickle of worry shot down my spine.
Was it because of what it meant?
Was he that allergic to love that he couldn’t even say the damn word…even in an acronym?
“Is Peter awake?” I asked, brushing aside her comment.
