Page 73 of Silent Lucidity

The double doors slid apart silently, opening on a small elevator with another set of identical doors directly ahead. Just like the corridor in which they stood, the elevator was devoid of the overwrought ornateness permeating the rest of Cullion’s estate. Its floor and walls looked rundown and were covered in faded stains.

He had to discreetly dispose of the evidence. Even though they were his property, he knew there’d be uncomfortable questions asked if he wasn’t careful. Even he couldn’t have bought his way out of alien trafficking and murder charges had all this been exposed.

Abella could have been one of the nameless slaves dragged through this tunnel if Tenthil hadn’t acted when he had. Her blood might have contributed to the stains on the floor.

They entered the elevator together, and Tenthil glanced down at the controls. The only thing on the touch display was an arrow pointing up. He reached for it but stopped his hand before making contact.

“Ready?” he asked.

Abella dropped her right hand between their bodies to grasp the blaster on her hip and nodded. “Yeah.”

Tenthil tapped the arrow.

The doors slid shut behind them with a faintwhoosh. Only a barely noticeable hum and a slight sinking sensation in Tenthil’s gut indicated the elevator was moving. Within a few seconds, the doors in front of them opened.

Dropping a hand to his blaster, Tenthil led Abella off the elevator. The room they entered was lit by pure white overhead lights, and everything within was pristine, shining as though it had been polished only moments before. It reminded him of a surgical room, with an adjustable table in the center—but the gutters running along the underside of the table, which emptied over a floor drain, suggested a sinister purpose.

He lifted his gaze; in the corner, large hooks dangled from chains which were attached to the ceiling by automated pulleys. Along a section of one wall, numerous long, black bags hung on a rail. Tenthil didn’t need to open the cabinets to guess the sorts of tools stored within them.

Wasting not another moment, he hurried across the room to the only other door.

The door opened into a dark room with implications as dire as the last; cages lined the walls, and implements of torture were on display in numerous places. Tenthil glanced down at Abella; she stood with her head turned toward him and her nose buried against his chest. She stared ahead with one wide, determined eye, but her face had paled, and her lips were pressed tightly together.

Even the strongest of us have weaknesses.

The room’s confused smell assailed him; it wasn’t a single scent, but an amalgamation, with blood and metal being the foremost components. His chest tightened; part of the blood-odor was familiar. He focused on it and was forced to clench his teeth against the wave of revulsion and rage that crashed through him when he realized what it was—Abella’s blood.

“It’s okay, Tenthil,” she said softly, tightening her arm around his waist. “It’s over. I’m with you now.”

Shouldn’tIbe comfortingher?

“Never again,” Tenthil vowed, tugging her closer, only barely preventing his claws from lengthening.

He closed the door, glancing behind to see that it blended seamlessly with the wall, as though it had never existed.

More secrets.

The Master would’ve delighted in learning of them, though this chamber wouldn’t have roused much suspicion, even in the social circles to which Cullion belonged—the wealthy enjoyed many of their kinks without shame or limitation, thanks to their standings.

Allowing himself no further time to contemplate this torture chamber—and having no desire to imagine Abella on her knees here, being whipped and beaten without mercy—he walked with Abella to the door at the center of the far wall. Her movements were stiff, but she didn’t lag.

However much he wanted to be done with this, she must’ve wanted it a thousand times more.

They emerged at the end of a long, dark hallway—dark due as much to the décor as the lack of light. He shut the as door as quietly as possible without releasing his hold on Abella before continuing forward.

The sound of voices from far down the hall halted Tenthil after only a few steps. He darted aside, taking cover with Abella behind one of the sculptures arranged along the hallway, and peered in the direction from which the voices had come.

A pair of armored guards walked across the opening at the end of the hallway, their shoulder-mounted lights casting luminous blue-white cones in front of them. Their heavy footfalls echoed on the polished stone floor.

Abella tensed against Tenthil, and he swore he could almost feel her pounding pulse through their clothing.

The guards vanished from sight after a few seconds.

She pressed her lips close to his ear and whispered, “Second door on the left leads to a servant’s corridor. There are stairs there that go all the way up and let out near Cullion’s room.”

Tenthil nodded. He waited ten more seconds before creeping out from behind the statue. Abella matched his slow, careful steps as they approached the door she’d indicated, but even their caution was not enough to fully silence their passage—the stone floor and walls amplified each nearly-silent footstep. He kept a hand on his blaster as they moved.

Somehow, they reached the door without being heard. Tenthil kept his eyes on the open space at the far end of the hallway while Abella opened the door, producing faint clicks as she grasped the handle and the latch released.

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