Page 25 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood
Drip. Drip.
The slow, irregular dripping of the water grew louder with each drop. If I didn’t get myself under control, I might die from the noise alone.
A muted sound caught my attention, so faint I’d almost missed it. I urged my wolf again to help me hear.
After a few more minutes of dripping, the sound again filtered into the room—a faint whimper followed by a deep sob or scream.
The masculine-like noise resembled the cry of someone who’d screamed himself raw with despair. The hoarse voice held a vaguely familiar tone, as if I might have heard it before.
The sound grew louder, as if he were on the other side of the wall and drawing closer to me from some room beyond.
Too weak to stand, I crawled toward the sound, wincing as my bruised and bloodied knees scraped against the rough floor. The drippingcontinued and pelted my body, and my hands grew slick with blood.
My stomach knotted. With all this water, the structure of the cave could be compromised, which meant I had to beverycareful.
I approached the part of the wall where the crying seemed loudest. The voice drew closer, along with a soft plopping sound, as if he were dragging himself. Then it stopped, and the cries grew more muffled, desperate, and aching.
I bit my lip and pressed my hands against the wall. My open wounds stung, but I needed the support to help locate the sourceof the sound. Maybe there was an opening in the wall or some way to more directly communicate.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused on the man’s breathing and whimpers instead of my own torment. My wolf took charge, and I ran my fingers over the wall and felt...a divot. I paused, listening. This was where the sound was coming from. I opened my eyes and found a vertical crack that ran from the top of the wall down to the floor. It was fingertip-width, and when I peered through it, on the other side, I could make out a shivering dark form.
I moved to change my view and realized he was curled up with his head lowered and his fingers thrust into his shaggy, greasy chestnut hair. His ragged gray shirt was soaking wet and clung to his form, leaving his bruised and battered arms bare.
"Are you okay?" I whispered hoarsely. I flinched.What a dumbass question, Briar. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. But what else could I ask? None of us was all right, but saying hello or good evening would have felt contrived.
The crying stopped, and the man lowered his shoulders and lifted his head. “Who’s asking?”
Even though I could see only about an inch of him at any time, I made out tunneling needle marks on his flesh near his collarbone and the front of his chest.
He was one of the prisoners I’d seen in the hall. The one who had said he couldn’t keep doing this.
Inhaling shakily, I wanted to give him hope, but even the time I’d been here had started feeling like eternity, and I already had the sense that there would be no escaping. “Someone who heard your cries earlier and wishes like the void to get out of this place.”
He tipped his head back and looked at the crack sidelong, managing a hoarse croaking laugh. “I am sorry we find ourselvesalike in this state. Are they feeding one of those traitors from your lifeblood as well?”
“Feeding?” My fingers curled tight against my palms, digging into already raw flesh. I ignored my discomfort and leaned closer to the crack. “What does that mean? Is that included in their tortures?” Even if I didn’t know exactly what it meant, it sounded horrible.
The tip of his tongue darted out and moistened his cracked lips. “Both my blood and my magic are compatible with whoever they’re feeding. When she needs more magic to replenish herself, they drain blood and magic from me. They’ll continue doing it to me until I cease to exist.” His breaths grew more ragged. “We’re all dead already. It’s just a matter of how we get there in the end.”
"Who is 'she'?" I pressed closer to the crack. Something skittered across my hand, and I jerked back. An aching blade of pain spiraled through my body as it protested the movement, and a grunt escaped me.
He tipped his head back, and the wall blocked my view of him. “I’ve never seen her. She takes my life but has never deigned to see me. All I know is that two members of the Aureline Council are involved in this. Probably more. What of you? Why are you here?”
I rubbed my hand, still feeling the scratchy legs of whatever had run across it. Was there any point in keeping secrets from him? I wanted to tell him just to remind myself of the truth and push away the false memories further. "They think I killed the Shadow king. But I didn't. I was framed. They’ve been trying to put fake memories in my head and change my perception of what happened while pretending they’re getting a confession."
“Ahhh, the tender mercies of Colm.” His voice shuddered, as if he’d tried to laugh and failed. “Be careful with him. As careful as you can be. He’ll twist everything you think you know. Butyou can hold out. Just…hold on to the truth. Tell yourself what you must remember over and over again for as long as you can.” He scoffed, but his voice sounded even more strained, as if he was verging on breaking into some combination of hysterical laughter and sobs. “What do they call you?”
“Briar,” I said softly. “What about you?”
“I was Elias. I suppose you can still call me that.”
Was. I shuddered. He’d pretty much acknowledged that he was never going to be the same person again. My throat tightened as I tried not to contemplate what might happen to me if I had to stay here much longer. If I had to endure days like this for an extended amount of time, there was no doubt I’d be feeling the same way. I might be determined to persevere, but everyone had their breaking point.
“It’s so cold.” He wrapped his bony arms around himself, and the veins near his chest throbbed along the dark tubular bruising. “It’s always so cold. They don’t even have to use much heat to torture you with temperature later. And there’s a point where the cold burns too.” He dipped his head forward into my view. “You have to hold on to every good memory you have, Briar. Especially if they take you to the Whispering Veins.”
“The Whispering Veins?” Goosebumps prickled across my arms, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. As bad as today had been, somehow I knew that what Colm had in store for me would get far worse.
He lifted a hand and traced a design in the air. “It’s this tall, narrow chamber. There are spikes on one wall at uneven intervals and of irregular sizes. Sharp enough to wound and maim but not enough to kill. Believe me, I’ve tried to die there. It’s arranged in such a way that it’s silent as death. So silent that your ears strain for any sound, and you can hear your own blood as it pumps through your veins. Your mind and body become starved for any sort of stimulus because it’s pure darkness. Noteven shadow sight can grant you vision in that place. Time becomes even more meaningless, and the air starts to hurt. But then…even worse, sometimes void vermin slip inside. They’ve cast spells so you can’t hear the vermin when they approach. The only way you know they’re there is when they’re on you…clawing, biting…” He doubled over, hugging himself tighter.
