Braydon grabbed Katelina by the shoulders. She had a final glimpse of Malick still seated on the balcony above, before she was forced out the door. Maybe she should have taken Samael up on the turning. At least then she’d have the power to wipe the smug smile off Malick’s face.
Arlen led the way through a narrow corridor to a set of stairs. Katelina guessed they went down to his dungeon, not that she could imagine Malick having many prisoners. He seemed more likely to execute them.
She tried to memorize the path they took, in case she had a chance to get away. The rooms were mostly plain, though she noted a pile of computer equipment crammed into a space barely bigger than a closet. Twisting cables and cords ran across the corridor and she had to step over them or trip.
Arlen stopped them at a metal door. He unlocked two padlocks, then pulled Katelina from Braydon and shoved her inside. She landed on all fours as the door slammed shut.
She stood up and blinked against the blackness, her hands extended. She moved forward, seeking the nearest wall. A soft noise came from the dark; half shuffle, half inhale. She stiffened, ears strained. There was only silence.
As her eyes adjusted, a lumpy shape formed, like a person hunched down. “Who’s there?”
The reply was a soft, low growl. She backed away until she was pressed against the wall. The growl came again, and the shape crept forward, too silent to be mortal.
The vampire leapt at her. She dodged and he slammed into the door with an angry growl. She hurried to the other side of the small room. The vampire, shadow-like in the heavy darkness, tackled her. The heavy weight of his body pressed her against the floor and his cold breath blew in her face. He snuffled her like a dog, moving his nose over her neck and her hair. He was going to drink from her and there was nothing she could do about it.
She squeezed her eyes shut and stifled a scream, ready for the bite, when he pulled away. Free, she dashed to the far wall and pressed back against it, chest heaving.
His voice came from the darkness, thick with a Russian accent. “You are human after all. I mistook you, but then you have had much vampire blood, yes? You smell of it strongly. It is an easy mistake.”
She smelled like a vampire? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
When she didn’t reply he added, “You may relax. I am no monster waiting to drain you. I thought that you were one of them.”
“One of who?” she asked shakily.
“The master’s sycophants. They fall out of favor from time to time and join me.” His tone turned bitter, “I owe them much. When I get a chance, I repay my debt.”
If attacking them was his idea of repayment, Katelina could only guess what they’d done to him. She’d seen vampires casually torture one another before, so safe in the certainty that their immortal blood would magically heal the physical marks that they forgot about the emotional ones.
The vampire dropped to the floor and shifted as if getting comfortable. “I will assume that you are not meant as a reward for me, so you must be my fellow prisoner. I wonder what you have done?”
She sat, but her muscles stayed rigid and ready. “Malick is using me for bait.”
“I wonder what fish he hopes to catch? It is no matter. Fellow prisoners do not last.” He paused. “We will introduce ourselves, yes? I am Boris.”
Boris. The name screamed through Katelina’s memory. A Russian vampire with a pot belly and a thick black mustache. Could it be the same one? “You sell fake IDs?”
He made a soft hrmph sound. “There is more to the business than that. More work than just pasting a photo to a piece of paper with a fake name. Much technology has been created to make it more difficult. There are layers–but never mind. What you say is close enough for the moment.”
Pain stabbed at Katelina as she thought of Russia, of Verchiel who was now… She refused to think about it. “We went to you in Russia, to get visas for Japan.”
“Really?” Boris sounded interested. “I get many customers, and it does me well not to remember them.”
It was important to her that he knew her. He’d be less likely to snack on her if he felt some kind of attachment. “You told us to tell Senya hello.”
“Ah! Yes, yes. Sorino’s friends. He is good customer, has brought much business. But Senya—ah poor Senya! Last I saw her, her master sent her away on a mission. He swore to kill me if she failed. Since I am alive, she must still be working.”
“She’s dead.” Katelina clamped a hand over her mouth, but the words were already out.
Boris slumped. “Her mission was difficult?”
Katelina knew better than to say she was the one who’d killed the bitch. Since she’d gotten involved with vampires, Senya had been a dark bird of prey swooping lower and lower, trying to exterminate her and her friends. Not because she hated them, but because she was ordered to. Her cold indifference made it worse, so why did Katelina feel guilty?
When no answer came, Boris drew his own conclusions. “You do not know? It is okay, though a shame. I had offered her to come back, and I think that she forgave me, or she would have let her master kill me. Yes, we were patched up. It is good that we were able to do that. I would hate to think of her dead with bad blood between us. But, the question remains, if she is dead why am I still alive? Is it that her master finds me useful?”
“What would Malick need fake IDs for?”
“No, no. I am his hacker.”
“Like a computer hacker?” His silhouette nodded. “What has Malick made you hack into?”
“The master himself does not come and command. It is Harn who holds my leash.” Boris’ voice turned threatening. “He is one I would like to get in here. I would pay him much revenge.”
He paused, and when he spoke again he was calmer. “Such dreams keep the days moving and the nights livable. But you ask what they peek into. Many unconnected things. I have followed the whereabouts of individuals, checked credit cards and flight records. I have read information from every guild, sometimes about big things, and sometimes about little things. In Russia and Syria he has had me looking into the history of bloodlines. In Mexico he peers into their conflict with the United States Guild. In Canada he researches crime scenes. But the most interesting is always the Sodalitas in Munich, Germany. They have their fingers in many pies. You would not believe! And they organize it on computers now instead of keeping to the old ways of paper and locked vaults. It is amusing to watch as society puts out all their information, like candy before a child. They hide it behind a few firewalls and encryptions and think it will stop the child from snatching it, but not a wise child. He will reach around them and when they plug their little holes, the child will find new ones and all their secrets are laid bare. Never type anything that you do not wish the world to know. If it is secret, do not say it, and do not write it. But it is good for me, perhaps, that they do or I would not still be alive.”
The lecture was nothing she hadn’t heard before. “You said they’re hacking Munich? What are they looking into?”
“Many things. But he likes especially the administrative files of the Khudshaya Biesy—the most terrible demons. Greatest demons, if you prefer.”
“Who are they?”
“Do you not know? They wear the medallions and enforce the Laws. Every guild has their own. Chernyye Biesy, we call them. Black demons. The worst of them are in Munich. The Greatest Demons. They are the dogs of the Sodalitas.”
“You mean the Executioners and the Scharfrichters?” Like Executioners, the Scharfrichters were the vampire’s elite police. Since Munich was the leader of all the vampires, the Scharfrichters were over all the Executioners.
“Call them what you will, they stink of the same evil.”
She thought of Wolfe, the leader of the Scharfrichters, and his girlfriend Sadihra, tenuous allies of herself and Jorick. The last time she’d seen them, they stood bloody and battle dirty. Verchiel had said that, after she left, the battle fell apart, so they were probably still alive. Had they gone back to Munich? “What are the Schar—erm, the Greatest Demons doing?”
“Have you heard of the Children of Shadows?” She wished she could say no, but she nodded. “There was big battle in Indonesia. Some stayed behind to clean up, but they have gone home now. Others took prisoners back to Munich. The prisoners told where the Children of Shadows’ secret base is, and the Greatest Demons will go to wipe out what is left of them. They say the Children of Shadows are a most terrible threat. The old ones shake in terror of their past deeds. Though perhaps their new attacks are enough to make them more evil than the demons? Much death.”
“What else has Malick had you look up?”
Boris shrugged. “We have stolen passcodes and PAL information for reactors and weapons systems from the human world. Missiles, mostly.”
Katelina’s heart skipped a beat. “Nuclear missiles?”
“Yes, yes. Very interesting to use the human’s inventions. No one will think of that. Not that I hope the master wins, but one must admire originality.”
She didn’t admire it at all. That Malick might destroy the whole planet…and for what? To fight Samael? She thought about the prophecy they’d uncovered, concerning a “vampire apocalypse”.
“Thus will begin the new age. Mankind will be subjugated to the will of the vampires and by this they shall live and die. It shall be as an apocalypse for all of mortal kind, when the Heart has been given to the broken body within the temple of the Raven Queen and the sleeping wreak their wrath. Then all will tremble at the might of the master and his consort in the time of the Great Destruction…Cities will be leveled and the works of men destroyed...”
Nuclear war had never occurred to her, but it fit. If the vampires were the ones who set it off, then it wouldn’t be only mankind who was destroyed. Or would it? Would radiation hurt vampires? It was probably the ultraviolet radiation in sunlight that burned them. Did nuclear bombs have UV radiation? Even if they didn’t, the nuclear winter that followed would destroy what life remained, leaving the vampires nothing to feed on. Malick couldn’t really be considering something like that. Could he?
There was a noise at the door. Katelina jerked to her feet and backed into the corner. The padlocks clinked, then the door swung open. Katelina squinted against the onslaught of light.
She opened her eyes to see a pair of vampires grab her. She struggled and looked to Boris for help, but he stayed against the wall, his teeth bared in warning.
Katelina kicked as they dragged her down the hallway to a room tiled in saffron. A bed made of naked wood stood on tall legs, like something from a clinic, and they forced her onto it. They tied heavy restraints around her wrists and ankles, then left. She tugged against the straps while her terrified eyes leapt from object to object. A chair sat against the wall at her feet. A table was littered in glittering silver instruments, and a garden hose lay curled on the floor. Her stomach dropped when she realized its purpose was to wash the blood down the floor drain. Was this where they had taken Boris to make him cooperate?
Oh God.
Katelina felt Malick’s approach before the door opened. He strode into the room followed by a tall lean vampire in coveralls. Malick paused next to the bed while the other moved to the table and organized the items.
“Hello again, my child. I did not think to see you so soon. How quickly Harn can arrange things. He is an asset.” The master’s smile grew and the other, probably Harn, grunted. “Now we will discover whether you are also an asset, or a waste of time.”
He patted her leg, then sat in the chair. “Harn, I look forward to your performance, but know that we do not want to kill her. Yet. If Samael is to come, she needs to be breathing. There would be no point in his traveling to save a corpse. However, I doubt he is monitoring his link with her. Her pain and terror must be sufficient to get his attention.”
Harn turned from the table with a nod, holding a shiny mallet. One end was brought to a dull point while the other was flat. He looked Katelina up and down, as if considering what to do. Her terrified mind ran through a host of possibilities, all of them bloody and painful.
Her heart pounded and she blinked away tears of terror. She’d been held prisoner before. The torture had been different, more casual brutality and humiliation, while this looked like something cold and calculated. She didn’t think she could take it. Pleading words rose to her lips, but she forced them back.
The corners of Malick’s eyes crinkled in amusement. She guessed that he’d heard her thoughts. He motioned to Harn and the vampire took hold of her wrist and forced her hand flat on the table. He brought the mallet down on her finger with a crunch. Pain shot up her arm. She held back a scream and Harn frowned. “She has stronger bones than usual for a human.”
Malick chuckled. “You may find that she has many strengths not normal to her kind. She has tasted the blood of an ancient. Who knows what interesting qualities it might have given her. Certainly she will be able to withstand much, much more than her mortal counterparts.”
Harn shrugged and slammed the mallet with more force. As her whimpers died away, she felt Malick scraping through her mind. The memories of Claudius’ den were forced to the surface. For a moment it was as if she was back there. She stood bound and half naked in front of the sneering vampire and his underlings. She could feel the cold floor on her feet, the chill air on her naked breasts, and the pulse racing terror as she watched her death draw closer.
Malick withdrew and the basement disappeared. She was back on the table. Her hand throbbed and her mind was torn between the horror of the past and the present.
“Continue,” Malick said.
Harn brought the mallet down again. She choked back the cry, though she couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. Malick was in her head again. The tiled room disappeared in favor of the cold basement of her former tormentors. A bald vampire leaned close and whispered, “Isn't this fun? Shame it has to be so quick.”
Then the tiled room and the pain of two injured fingers slammed back. Before she was fully oriented, Harn smashed the mallet a third time. A scream tore from her. She fought not to follow it with sobs.
She shrieked as he smashed the other two fingers, then paused to let Malick crawl inside her skull. The basement of her memories was back. The bald vampire tore the last of her clothing away. He ran violating hands over her body, his putrid breath in her face. She shuddered. It disappeared, replaced with Malick’s tiled torture chamber. She choked on her tears as Harn flipped the mallet to the flat end and attacked her fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed. Though it was a long, wordless wail, it was a cry for Jorick, for her hero who would come bursting through the wall to save her.
Malick chuckled. “Do you really believe he’ll come?”
She spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes. And when he does he’ll finish what he started with your hand.”
Malick held up the stump. “This? A lucky stroke on his part while I was distracted. Regardless, I believe Samael will reach us first, don’t you? It is not Jorick who has a link to you. How will he know where you are? Do you think Samael might send him a postcard?” Malick laughed. “No, my son is still in China, left with no witnesses to explain why you did not join him at the rendezvous point. Your secret hope that Verchiel lives is in vain, my child.”
Katelina’s chest tightened. Did he mean that…
Malick’s smile grew. “How refreshing your sorrow is; and interesting. No wonder my son worries. I wonder if drinking Verchiel’s blood gave you your misplaced affection, or if it is something more. Harn, continue.”
Harn moved around the table and brought the mallet down on her other hand. Her cries echoed off the walls as he smashed a second digit, then waited for Malick. The master forced his way into her head. She was in the basement again, enduring the humiliation. Back and forth it continued. Harn broke her fingers, and Claudius ordered her into a rusted metal cage, leaving her naked, bruised, and beaten, until she wasn’t sure which world was real.
Harn stepped away and she sobbed, her bravery lost to confusion. Malick’s presence weighed on her like a suffocating blanket. She peered through teary eyes to see the bearded master. His smug smile twisted her stomach.
Harn held her elbow steady and raised the mallet, pointed side down. She knew what was coming and it was more than she could stand. No, no! No!
The last thought was a scream and Harn stumbled backwards. He looked quickly from Katelina to Malick. The ancient master laughed. “Continue.”
Harn’s pale eyes held caution as he brought the mallet down. She felt the crack. He hammered again and again. The room darkened around the edges, then brightened. He moved to the other side and Malick reached into her mind, taking her back to the basement, to the smell of smoke, the sound of screams from upstairs. Claudius roared in fury and ripped her from the cage and what came next—
No.
The tiled room came back, blurry through tears of agony. Harn slammed the mallet into her shin. The room blinked black, then bright, then black again, like a strobe. Then everything disappeared in darkness.
She was conscious of pain; white hot flames burning through her skin. Then came the nausea, and finally the terror. She opened her eyes to see the yellow tiled room. She was still strapped to the table. Braydon sat in a chair at the far end, his legs and arms crossed. She tried to come to terms with where she was. Not in Claudius’ basement, but Malick’s. Yes. Malick had taken her.
“You’re awake.”
She focused on the sound of Braydon’s voice and found him looking at her with an unsettled expression. “Please,” she gasped desperately. He hadn’t actually hurt her yet. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as the others.
Sympathy flashed in his eyes then disappeared. “I need to notify the master.”
“No,” she begged. “Please. Just let me go. His plan—”she took a shuddering breath.—“It won’t work. Samael won’t come. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to fight Malick. Please.”
Braydon seemed to waver, then his voice grew firmer. “I need to notify the master.”
“Please.” Tears ran down her cheeks as he hurried from the room.
She pulled at her bonds. The pain was excruciating, so she fell still and sobbed. She said a silent prayer, begging God to make it end.
Like before, she felt Malick’s presence before he entered. Harn followed, zipping his coveralls, and moved back to the table of shiny instruments. Malick stopped next to the bed to peer at her.
“Braydon did well to resist you. Though his loyalty wavered, in the end he passed his test. Even if we are unable to reach Samael, I should thank you for enabling that little experiment.”
He gave her a kind smile, then moved back to his chair. “Breaking bones did not rouse Samael’s interest. Let us see if a little blood cannot attract him.”
Harn shrugged and selected something that looked like a metal hand, four fingers splayed out and tipped in gleaming razor blades. Katelina whimpered. She knew what came next. First they’d rip her clothes off to leave her naked, vulnerable, then they’d slice through her flesh.
“No, child. This is no tawdry display. You can keep your clothing. This device can cut through both.”
Harn drew the instrument across her shoulder. The blades sliced painlessly through her shirt. He swiped with it again and again. As he moved lower down her arm the pain started, like tiny trails of fire crisscrossing one another. She crooked her neck to see blood blossoming on her shirt. It soaked into the fibers in a checkerboard pattern of crimson.
He moved to her broken forearm and her sobs turned into strangled screams. He finished and started for her torso when Malick held up his hand. The ancient master dived into her mind, bringing up another night, another fight. She hung from a hook and a vampire jammed a knife into her gut and sneered. “Scream for ‘im.”
“Yes,” Malick’s voice whispered through her mind. “Call for Samael. Beg him to save you. Use your connection.”
She didn’t know how to use the connection, even if she wanted to, and his prompting only made her more determined not to. She had called for Jorick that time, called him into a trap, and dragged them both into a nightmare of blood.
Harn sliced the blades across her stomach, then her thigh. He paused at her knee, and Malick prodded her mind again. He took her back to that night, left her hanging from the hook, unsure whether Jorick loved her or wanted rid of her, while her attackers argued about what to do. Then he brought her back to the present in time for Harn to slice her broken shin. The room swam. She had a glimpse of blood rising to the surface of her jeans before she passed out.
She woke quickly, and Harn continued. The room blacked in and out as he worked his way over her, pausing now and then to let Malick into her mind. The assault became a constant smear of past, present, and future and she didn’t know what was real and what was nightmare. Clips of previous fights, faces of the dead, moments that she didn’t think had happened, but now seemed real. Clutching flowers and crying, she stood before a grave emblazoned with the symbol of the Executioners. Verchiel was dead. Jorick had abandoned her in his jealousy at her pain. “If you care about Verchiel so much, then follow him.” She was alone in the rain, wishing she had listened to Samael; that she had taken him up on his offer.
“You can go back. Call to him.”
If only she knew how.
Her throat was hoarse from screaming when they finally stopped. “That should give Samael a taste.” Malick shuffled through her thoughts, seeking something, perhaps her connection with the ancient. “Though it has not been enough to stir his interest. Perhaps we will try removing limbs tomorrow instead of merely breaking them? In the meantime, have someone return her to the guest room.” He gave Katelina a serene smile. “Until tomorrow, child. I hope that you will reflect on your cooperation, and whether you might be better served to do as I ask?”
Before she could choke out a reply, he swept from the room in a swirl of crimson robes.
With his exit she sank into darkness. When she pulled back, the world was still a smear of horror. The past crouched close to the surface and she couldn’t tell if she was in Malick’s oasis or Munich’s dungeon. Yes. Jorick had abandoned her and Munich had taken her for experiments. But the room wasn’t right.
Harn unfastened her bonds as Braydon and a dark male came through the door.
“She can’t walk.” Harn turned to cleaning his instrument. “Her legs are broken, so you’ll have to carry her.”
They nodded their answer and Braydon scooped her up. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she tried desperately to place the vampire carrying her. Had she seen him in Claudius’ basement earlier? Was he working with Kateesha? Was he one of the Scharfrichter?
The dark male unlocked the door to a cell and peered inside. It was empty, but wrong. It should be a cage; a rusty cage, shouldn’t it? She was sure she’d been in one moments ago. Where was she now? Who were these vampires?
The questions disappeared when Braydon carried her inside and laid her on the floor. She moaned and met his eyes, but he rushed out before she could say anything.
The darkness swam around her. She snatched at threads of so-called reality. The grave leapt into her thoughts again. Verchiel. He’d died protecting her, and Jorick had…Where was Jorick? Had he really left her? Had he let Munich take her? Was that where she was?
At last oblivion came. A dream drifted over her, like flower petals. She found herself under a pagoda, near the lake at Samael’s complex. She turned sharply to see him standing near her, his face smooth and unreadable.
He reached for her and she pulled away. Her anger burned brighter than the peace around her. “Where were you?”
“To give one such as him satisfaction would not end your ordeal, only fuel his zeal. As it is, he wonders if his efforts were wasted. If he knew he was successful do you believe he would return you to your cell to heal? No, he would continue torturing you, until there was nothing left but a shell. Hush now.”
The tranquility grew until it overpowered her fury and she let him pull her into an embrace. It was comforting. Not like the embrace of a lover, rather a father or brother. His peace flowed into her, chasing away the last of her sorrow and she closed her eyes. “I can’t take another day.”
“You do not need to. Others come for you, led by the one you call your lover.” She drew back, delight on her lips. He hushed her again. “Your waking mind is broken. You must seal away the memories of what has been done if you want to be whole when he arrives.”
She didn’t understand. “How?”
“Behind a door, much like Malick used. But you must lock it so that it can never be opened. To let it out would destroy you.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Your subconscious does. Just as it knows how to force others away when you are scared. It is of no consequence. Later you will learn to use these things at will. For now I will help you. Sleep in peace, the sleep of the dreamless.”
She wanted to clutch his robes and refuse to go back to the tiny cell, but the dream evaporated, and she was swept away on tides of black.
Katelina woke to find a dark silhouette sitting next to her. She jumped and regretted it as pain shot through her. “Boris?” He nodded and she gasped, “You’re back.”
“I did not leave. I was here, but you could not see me. It is one of my talents, though not useful on Harn. He can see through such tricks, and so hampers any escape.”
Katelina remembered fighting Senya in the Raven Queen’s cave. Like Boris, she was a phantom, a vampire who could hide their presence, but it hadn’t worked on Neil, and he’d been able to direct their attacks.
“Senya was a phantom.”
“Yes. We had the same master. But that is old news.” Boris moved closer. “Do not worry. You are in great pain now but you will heal as you—” he broke off. “My mistake. You are mortal still. You will not heal with rest. But from all the vampire blood you are stronger at least. You can endure what would have killed a lesser mortal.” He touched her arm and she bit back a cry. Boris didn’t mean to harm her, did he? “You gave them cooperation?”
“I-I don’t know.” The memories weren’t there, only a murky sense that something terrible had happened. “They took me to a room then…Harn was there and Braydon and…and Braydon had to carry me back.” She shifted and stifled a cry. “My legs. He said my legs were broken but…” But who had broken them and why?
Boris studied her. “Very odd. You do not know what he wanted from you?”
She concentrated on the vague threads of thought. “He wanted me to contact Samael. Mentally. But I don’t know how.”
“Do you have mental abilities?” She shook her head and an idea seemed to dawn over him. “This Samael, he is your master? You are linked?”
She hurt too much to correct him.
“Then that is all right. If you are linked you do not need to call to him, he will call to you. Or that is what I have heard. Linking, it is something I have never tried. I have heard that you must be a dream stealer for it to work. A mind reader,” he clarified.
“They will want you to be in pain all night. This is why they did nothing to heal you. But…” he trailed off, as if he was considering something. “They feed me very little. You have lost blood, but not enough to be dangerous to you. If you would be willing to an exchange. A little of yours for a little of mine, the benefit would be mutual. You cannot heal completely, or they will notice, but enough to ease your pain, yes? And enough to take the edge from my hunger? I am not an animal, but if I must smell your blood all night and yet have none…” She understood. It was like hanging a steak in front of a starving man and expecting him not to eat because he’d once made fake papers for the cow.
She nodded and imagined him licking his lips.
“I should go first, so the bite will be healed?”
He moved down the length of her and finally lifted her foot. She stifled a cry. He apologized, and quickly took off her shoe. The cool air kissed her toes. She felt his breath on the top of her foot for only a moment before his teeth sunk in.
Though she couldn’t see Boris in the dark, she imagined she could feel her blood flowing out of her foot and into his mouth in wet, greedy gulps. She forced herself to calm down and waited for something to happen, for the connection to kick in. When a vampire bit a human they could turn it into whatever they wanted; heaven or hell, and even share memories with them, but Boris didn’t seem interested in doing anything except drinking.
Just as she started to worry, he broke away and replaced her shoe. “They will not look at your feet,” he explained. “In case it does not heal.”
She wasn’t sure if it was really logic, or a foot fetish. As long as he kept his end of the bargain she didn’t care.
She cleared her throat as a reminder, and he knelt near her head. “You have had much vampire blood, yes? So you understand this.” He rolled up his sleeve. “They will not check me for wounds, I do not think, so we can do this the easy way. You should lay still.” He held his fleshy forearm above her mouth. “You can bite through?”
Rather than answer, she lifted her head. Her lips brushed against his skin and she forced away the nagging voice in her head. It was probably right. Jorick would be angry. But she had to do something.
She bit as hard as she could. Boris gave a little gasp as her dull human teeth cut in. It took a moment for the blood to hit her tongue, but when it did she forgot everything else. The liquid was lukewarm and tasted like rich tobacco and burning alcohol. She swallowed again and again. Shadows moved in the back of her mind. The wraiths lacked substance, and the sounds were soft, but they hovered at the edge of her consciousness.
They disappeared and she was left with her open mouth snapping at empty air. She blinked as the world came back to her in all its horror.
“That was enough.” Boris hastily rolled his sleeve down. “Someone is coming.”
Before she could ask who, the door was thrown open.