Page 30 of Pierce

11

Jasmine

When I woke up,time had passed. A lot of it. Enough so that when my eyes opened, and I looked around, I was no longer staring up at the ceiling of a hand-carved stone cell. The ceiling was a warm white, with lightbulbs mounted inside. They gave off a warm glow. It was pleasant, comforting. And completely foreign.

I turned my head to the side. A bed. I was in an actual bed. A comfortable one, too. It cradled me the way I imagined a cloud would.

The room around me was much bigger than the cell, and completely modern. A flat-screen TV on the wall, a sound system mounted underneath. On the wall beside the door was a screen which gave readouts of all sorts of information: weather, the date, the time, the temperature inside the room. The walls were painted in a soft gray, while the bedding was deep blue and white.

I ran my hands over it, relishing its softness.

I realized I was moving without pain. It didn’t hurt at all. Was I still drugged? I had to be, unless I’d slept for an entire week. I squinted carefully and concentrated on reading the date and time. If memory served, the accident took place on a Wednesday morning. According to the screen, it was Thursday afternoon. A long sleep, for sure, but not enough time for me to have healed completely.

I was wearing a thin, cotton shirt which was at least four sizes too large and practically floated around me. It made checking out my shoulder easier—it practically hung out of the loose neck hole.

I could hardly believe how quickly my muscles had started to repair. Skin covered the wound again, too. There was a lot of discoloration, but it was no longer rotting. I was sure I had never been so relieved to see anything.

A slow, gentle stretch told me there was still a lot of discomfort and tightness, but I could move without nearly passing out from the pain. It was an improvement.

I got up slowly and walked to the display on the wall. Was there a lock on there somewhere? How was I supposed to get out of the room? And where was this room, anyway? Not a hospital, certainly. It would’ve made sense if I were still in the caves with Pierce, but this room was a pretty serious departure from the cell I remembered.

There was an open door to my right—curiosity drew me to it and through it into a bathroom even nicer than those at the mansion.

A set of marble steps led to the sunken tub with its whirlpool jets, surrounded by candles. Four glass walls outlined a shower stall large enough for a half-dozen people to use at once. The floor was comfortably warm under my feet. Heated? A nice touch.

I couldn’t still be in the cave. No way was there anything this luxurious under that mountain. Even so, there was something about the place that I couldn’t put my finger on. Something off. I stood still and held my breath to listen closely.

And I heard it. A subtle, gentle dripping. Water was dripping and trickling through the walls, the ceiling, even under my feet. There was a groaning, too, the sound of tons of rock pressing down on another few tons of earth.

I’d heard it in the cell, when I was so sure I was going to die.

I was in the same place—just not the same area.

It felt like a stupid thing to do, but I had to do something. “Hello?” I turned in a circle, eyes searching my surroundings. No cameras, no speakers. No handle on the door. So there was little chance of anybody watching me, but no chance of getting out of here.

Little hairs stood straight up on the back of my neck. Had Alina saved my life only for me to spend the rest of it locked in a very comfortable prison?

There was noise on the other side of the bedroom door. Panic pushed a breathless scream up through my throat—I was just about to open my mouth and let it out when the door slid open, and a smiling Alina walked in.

“I didn’t think you’d be up and around so soon!” She came to me, took my face in her hands and peered closely. “You look good. Your eyes are clear, your color’s back.”

“Where—where are we?” I whispered, closing my hands over hers.

Lines creased her smooth forehead as her brows knitted together. “We’re still with them.”

I didn’t need to ask who she meant.

“You’re staying here, too?”

“Sure. I have the room next door.” She grinned. “This is pretty sweet, huh? Who would guess they lived like this?”

I didn’t want to hear about it. “When will we be allowed to leave?”

Her smile faded. “You should be more concerned with getting better.”

“I feel fine.”

“I know you feel that way, but that’s because I’ve been dripping tonic down your throat every four hours since I got here. Your last dose was…” She checked out the screen beside the door. “It’s only been two hours, give or take. You’ll start feeling different in another hour or so.”

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