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Would they tie me upside down for that?
I shoved that horrifying image away. It would do no good to dwell.
Mariana ignored me and opened the glass doors of the cabinet. She ran one elegant finger along the base of the shelf, reading labels as one might read the spines of a book or hunt for prices at market. Her skin shone healthy bronze in the dimming light, and I glanced up at the windowed ceiling. The sun was setting, the sky a darkening blue with thin, wispy clouds of white curling high above, and I thought perhaps I could see a single star already glinting down at us.
I considered begging. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but the clinical way she drew down each mason jar stopped me. I watched as she pulled out a small case with slender vials and began to fill each with separate items; toenails, several strands of hair, a thin pinkish length of something that looked disturbingly like skin. Her movements were precise, unbothered by the grisly items she was collecting, and understanding prickled over my skin.
This woman did not see me as an equal.
No amount of begging was going to work.
Think, Nora!
The jar of eyeballs was in reaching distance. It was large, its opaque liquid allowing a foggy view inside. I could see the long, pink nerves snaking out behind each bloated ball, twisting together in places and my stomach did another turn. And deeper than that, in the aether, where my empathy lay was a cascade of horror and pain screaming to be released.
I would not become pieces in a jar.
Derrick would free himself, I just needed to give him time.
And if he didn’t?
If he didn’t, at least I would have done something. At least I would not have simply let it happen.
Seizing the jar in both hands, I swung it for Mariana’s head with a scream that tore through the room. The impact shuddered up my arms and I heard Mariana give a grunt of surprise as the glass shattered. She fell against the cabinet, knocking several other jars from their places. They each smashed into the floor, glass spilling over the metal-meshed walkway, their contents disappearing between the grates.
Mariana staggered to the side, cursing.
There was a burning in my palm, and I realized a heartbeat later that I was bleeding.
Must have cut it on the glass.
For a stunned second, I forgot to move, and then I realized she wasn’t unconscious, that she was regrouping. Whirling for the door, I ran, each step not nearly as fast as I needed it to be. With a sob, I reached the wheeled handle and gripped it. The blasted cuffs got in the way, but I was able to fumble enough of a grip to get the thing to turn halfway.
Fingers gripped my hair, yanking so hard my head jerked back. I lost hold of the door and fell. Metal floor scoured against my hip as I was dragged back through the room. Instinctively, I grabbed for my own hair, feeling the combined pain of each strand pulled taut. Kicking out, I flailed and squirmed, desperate to dislodge her.
My foot caught her ankle, and she toppled on top of me, her elbow sinking hard into my gut. A knot fisted in my stomach, lodging somewhere under my ribs, and it became difficult to breathe. Nausea rolled through me.
Dizzy lights swam in my vision for a dazed second, but I saw Mariana stand.
She grabbed another fistful of my hair. “Fine,” she said with a snarl, “We’ll use everything you’ve got.”
She made a staggered progression to the far wall and stopped. Through the blur of pain and panic, I saw her sketch the rune for openings into the smooth, copper wall and it simply clicked open. Beyond was a long corridor that slanted down, illuminated by many torchstones embedded in the stone walls.
Mariana dragged me to my feet, hair first, and brought her face inches from my own. Maker’s sake, she was strong!
“When this is all over, I’m going to hunt Derrick King down and skin those tattoos straight off his body. Now move.”
The oath prickled over my skin and I let go of a pained sob.
Her grip still firmly in my hair, she steered me into the corridor. With my head craned to the side, I staggered beside her as she made a brisk pace through the tight tunnel. Behind us, the door clicked shut again, plunging the space into shadows and gloom. Cool air breezed against my skin, made the cuts on my hip and thigh sting, and I shivered. Blood continued to seep from the cut on my hand, trailing down to slip beneath the steel cuff at my wrist.
“Sluaghna eat anyone and anything,” I said through my teeth. “He’ll eat you too in the end.”
Mariana chuckled, a breathless, sultry sound that set my skin to crawling. “You think you know something about sluaghna, little warlock?”
“I know better than to make a deal with one.”
The corridor turned, opening into a small junction. I realized with a jolt that one of the paths must lead back to the manor and tried to wrench free. Mariana pulled down on my hair, forcing me to bend until I was perpendicular with the ground, my head tilted into a dangerous angle. Darkness lined my vision and for a disoriented moment I nearly fell, but I knew that if I collapsed now my neck would snap. I fought to right myself and found my footing after several wobbly steps.
