Page 76 of Blood Bound

“Hey!” I say softly. “You okay over there? You’ve been awful quiet.”

A moment passes before a weak voice responds, “Good as can be expected, I guess.”

“That’s better than nothing, right?” I say, inching closer to where I think the voice is coming from. “How long have you been here?” She’d been confused about it before, but it can’t hurt to try again.

There’s a long pause. “I- I don’t know. Days? Weeks? Months? It’s all a blur.”

I press on, desperate for any information. “Have you seen others come and go? I’ve been looking for my sister.”

“You already asked me that.” The voice sounds irritable. “I said I don’t know.”

“But others? You’re not the only one they’ve taken. Who are the others?”

“I’m not sure. We don’t speak anymore. Sometimes…sometimes I hear screams.”

Shit.

“Do you know anything about who’s keeping us here?”

Heath and his cryptic bullshit about “big pictures” just don’t cut it. He’s not acting alone, and I can’t see a group of vampires working with him purely for the greater good of all witches. There must be others of our kind with him.

“No. They don’t talk to us,” she replies.

“What do they want?” I try another line.

“Blood,” the woman’s voice breaks. “They want blood.”

I swallow down bile. It’s as we suspected. And the thought of my sister being kept as a living blood bank makes me want to throw up.

“There was someone else here before you,” she suddenly volunteers, surprising me.

“Where is she?” I ask. I glance around as if this phantom occupant might suddenly appear.

“She fought. A lot.” There’s a long pause. “It’s not good to fight.”

“What happened to her,” I push, wishing I didn’t already know the answer.

“She stopped…fighting,” she whispers.

Her words trail off into incoherent mumbling, leaving me with more questions than answers and a growing sense of dread.

Shit. Shit, shit!

I have to get out of here. I really have to get out of here. And I’m taking her with.

I close my eyes, focusing on that faint warmth in my mind. Darick’s presence, even just the ghost of it, gives me strength. I picture the train station near the Moonshadow home, willing the image to reach him.

“Come on, Darick,” I whisper. “I’m here. Near the Moonshadows. There’s a train…”

I concentrate on every detail I can remember. The platform, the scent of oiled metal. The sound of wheels on rails. I push these sensations through our bond, praying they’ll reach him.

The connection flickers, maddeningly inconsistent. Sometimes, I feel a surge of warmth as if he’s caught a glimpse of what I’m sending. Other times, there’s nothing but cold emptiness.

But I don’t give up. I keep trying, picturing the station from every angle I can remember. The tracks gleaming in moonlight. The ticket booth with peeling paint. The eerie quiet broken only by the occasional rumble of a passing train.

“Please,” I murmur. “Find me, Darick. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I need you.”

A wave of comfort washes over me, and for a moment, I swear I can almost feel his presence. It’s gone in an instant, but it leaves me with a flicker of hope.

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