Page 45 of Whispers of the Dead

ZOEY

The bars around my cell are rough beneath my fingers. The metal that bites into my skin is even colder than it has any right to be. I tighten my grip. My gaze locks onto the sliver of dull light filtering through the skylight above, breaking through the gloom. There’s no way to break through them, but maybe…

“I think I can make it.”

“Zoey, no.” Damon’s voice cuts through the thick, stale air like a blade. His voice is sharp. He steps closer to the bars of his cell and his hands appear at the edge of the dim light where they wrap around the bars. “If you fall?—”

“If I fall,” I interrupt, turning my gaze toward the sound of his voice, “maybe they’ll have to take me out of here to fix me. Maybe that’s what we need. Maybe, Damon, maybe it’s worth the risk.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Benji says. “Do you hear yourself right now? Seriously, Zoey.”

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Did you learn nothing from our last argument about your safety?” One of Damon’s hands disappears into theshadows, only to slam against the bars in frustration. The echo reverberates through the empty corridor.

“That was a choice you made. This choice is all mine.”

“This is reckless, even for you.”

“Maybe, but it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.” Before he can argue further, I grip the bars and hoist myself up. My muscles protest the strain and tremble from exhaustion, but I grit my teeth and push through it. Damon’s hands shoot out. I brace myself for him to pull me down, but he steadies me, his firm grip giving my feet a perch. “Thought you wanted to stop me?”

“I do,” he grumbles. “That doesn’t mean I can. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s really saying something,” Benji adds, “Because Damon’s pretty damn near unbearable on the stubborn scale.”

The metal bars dig into my palms as I climb higher. My breath comes in short bursts and my arms shake under the strain. My bare feet press against the cold steel for leverage.

“You’re insane,” Damon mutters.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” When I reach the top, I bring my feet up high on the bars and do a weird crouch against them before pushing off in a leap. My fingers catch the bars covering the skylight and I hang on with a grunt.

“Okay, seriously though, don’t die,” Benji says.

“Not planning on it.” I tilt my head back to look up at the glass that’s foggy with dirt and grime. I let go of the bars with one hand and press my palm against it to search for a weak point, a latch, something. My fingers scrape uselessly against the smooth surface. I huff out my frustration. “It’s sealed. Even if I could open it, these stupid bars?—”

“Then come down,” Damon snaps. Truth be told, I’m surprised he held out chastising me for as long as he did. “Come down before you fall and break your damn neck.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t exactly plan a way down.”

“You don’t have a way down from there?” Benji paces in his cell. Funny, I didn’t take him for the worry kind. I figured the pacing would be reserved for Damon. Not Cole, though. No. Cole remains still as a statue, watching.

“I mean, gravity’s always an option.”

“The fuck it is,” Damon growls.

“Do you know how to say anything without growling?”

Damon grumbles something that I don’t catch.

“Well, anyway, I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” I slam my fist against the glass, hoping for some kind of miracle. Nothing. Well, that was anticlimactic.

“Are you trying to make the glass shatter down onto you?” Damon asks. I like that I can bring out that exasperation in him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” My breath hitches and frustration builds. “There doesn’t seem to be a way to open this thing?—”

A sharp intake of breath stops me cold. My head jerks downward. A dreg steps out of the shadows of the corridor. His eyes widen in surprise as he stares up at me.

“Shit,” I whisper.

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