Page 152 of Taken By Touch and Torment

“I knew you were trying to distract them from us,” Lana said suddenly, tucking her curly black hair behind her ears. She wrung out a sponge as she peered over at me. “That night they made us hurt you. I knew you were trying to help. When you were taken… something in my gut knew there was more to the story.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Rosalind told us we wouldn’t have long to wait before we were freed,” she said. “She said soon this place would be burned to the ground.”

Cassius paused, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “I always sensed there was something different about you. You were Rune’s, before…” He stared into my eyes. “You’re what we’ve been waiting for.”

Whatever Lana and Cassius saw on my face must’ve been convincing, because the most beautiful hope sparked in their eyes.

“I don’t—I can’t say anything yet,” I said, stumbling. It felt wrong to accept their vision of me as some kind of savior. I was only doing the bare minimum—the right thing. And claiming a decadent slice of vengeance on the side wasn’t selfless in the least. “But I am here to help. You all just need to stay safe until it all goes down, okay?”

Tears brimmed Lana’s eyes. “Whatever we can do, let us know. Forget the past—those slaves who had it out for you, they were hurting and misguided. Anything you need now, we can make happen.”

Cassius nodded, and I smiled in return, despite my discomfort with their sudden adoration and faith in me.

The four of us developed a system, periodically emptying the bloody buckets of water into the shower. We also sprayed a fuck-ton of perfume and opened a window to rid the space of the lingering scents of Liza and her blood.

When the space was in working order, it was time for phase two.

Rosalind projected out her succubus magick, both searching for approaching vampires and also deterring them with a wall of repulsive, anti-seductive magick. I switched off my own power, following Rosalind’s directions to board up my glamour and emit nothing but the most disgusting, unappetizing energy.

Rosalind beckoned us forward as Cassius and I hauled the rug full of dead body. Cassius very clearly lifted most of the weight, but I was fantastic at steering and providing morale by means of inappropriate corpse jokes.

Once we turned the corner, a tall window overlooking the city was a few paces ahead. It wasn’t a hall that often garnered a lot of traffic, but there were plenty of residential chambers around, including Durian’s. Thank all the gods he was gone tonight.

“Remember, toss her out, and then we need to disperse as quickly as possible,” Rosalind whispered.

Lana stood watch at the far end of the hall, watching the staircase. Everyone nodded, and this beautiful, powerful energy flooded my veins—this feeling of being a part of something bigger than myself. It was thrilling, difficult to put into words.

I wondered if this was how the turned felt, united by loyalty and purpose in their fight against the born.

It was more than mere friendship. It was the surreal experience of sharing a vision, of fighting against common enemies and dreaming of the same brighter tomorrow.

We held each other’s fates in our palms, and all we could do was trust each other and keep moving forward.

“Ready?” Cassius asked. His handsome features shone with exertion, a thin layer of sweat at his hairline.

He moved closer to the open window.

I nodded, and we hoisted Liza higher. Cassius pushed up on the front end, getting her onto the sill. Then, we shoved.

As soon as Liza was airborne, Cassius pulled the window shut, twisted the lock, and we all took off in different directions. I heard the crash as I sped away.

I took the corner and slipped into my room, launching immediately into my final round of cleaning and tidying. It was more than manageable now.

Gratitude swelled in my chest. I would be dead if it weren’t for Rosalind. I would’ve likely been dead a second time if it weren’t for Cassius and Lana.

My veins pumped with anxiety, knowing these two traumatized humans were now looped in to my master plan. Actually, it sounded like the whole horde of palace slaves were now in my web.

It was terrifying, this heavy responsibility weighing on my shoulders. The stakes had already been high, but now I had a growing pile of corpses in my metaphorical closet.

Exhausted, I somehow dozed off laying on top of my comforter. In and out of stressful dreams, only one thought woke me in the middle of the night.

I’d never asked Rosalind who gave her that busted lip and black eye.

60

SCARLETT

---