There was no way of knowing how much time had passed. My surroundings were unfamiliar, a darkened room lit only by pale, red bulbs bolted to the metal walls of the small room. I lay upon an uncomfortable bed, its rigid surface unforgiving against my spine, my posture doing little to help the lingering pain of the injuries I’d amassed over the past week. As I’d slipped into unconsciousness out on the docks, part of me wondered if I’d ever awaken again. And with Loren Montague lifeless on the pavement, part of me wondered if I even wanted to. For two hundred years I’d lived my life apart from her, thinking of her often, but never allowing myself to believe that she’d come back to me.
When she had, for her own reasons, of course, I’d allowed myself the smallest sliver of hope. The chance that just maybe we could rekindle what we had, that even with our different lives and different responsibilities, we could find a way to live one life— together. But she was dead and I was—
I sat up, wincing in pain, and looked around, realizing for the first time that I was actually locked inside a cage. I swung my legs from the bed, my entire body rocking as I tried to bring myself upright, to take in my surroundings. No— it wasn’t my body that was rocking. It was the world. The ground at my feet, the walls at my back.
I was on the ship and the ship was on the water. I sprang from the bed, biting through a slash of pain in my chest and through my ribs. The room around me was moderately sized, the walls bolted together metal plate, a wooden table set against the far wall, an oval-shaped door sealed tightly closed. The room was scantly illuminated by faint, red bulbs, my surroundings taking on a distinctly crimson hue. My fingers curled around the thick, iron bars of the cage that surrounded me, penning me into a space that felt altogether too small.
“Hello?” My voice rebounded back at me, a metallic echo within the empty chamber. I suspected there were other cages throughout the boat as well, probably dozens, if not hundreds of them, though I’d been separated from the others, locked away in this cage within a cage. “Hello?” I screamed even more loudly, my voice shouting back at me from the surrounding metal walls.
I released my grip on the bars, closing my eyes as I paced back and forth, flexing my tingling fingers. Trapped in a cage. On the open sea. Lucas Androse was taking us all to Europe— where he hoped to skin the werewolves and sell their pelts. Where he hoped to— do what, exactly, with me? The events of the past week seemed to rush through my mind like a locomotive, so many things gone wrong, so many mistakes made.
Then, within the darkness of my closed eyes, I saw Loren again, splayed lifeless on the docks and I stumbled clumsily backwards, almost falling onto the bed, my strength leeched from my body. I thought of Indigo as well, her brief skirmish with Androse, how he’d tossed her almost absently off the docks and into the water. Was she okay? Had she made it free of the battle? Would she be coming after me?
Somehow, I hoped not. One thing had become abundantly clear in my repeated battles with Lucas Androse and it was that I was totally and utterly outmatched. Perhaps if I’d tangled with him at the height of my Enforcer career, I’d have been better equipped to go toe-to-toe— but as it was, I couldn’t hang with him. Not strategically, not physically— not in any way.
And my hubris had gotten Loren killed. I’d felt so certain that I could outthink him, out maneuver him, that somehow, I would produce a plan that he wouldn’t have already seen coming. It had been foolish in retrospect, and Loren had paid the price— perhaps Indigo had, too. And I remained locked in this cage, being carted across the ocean to whatever fate awaited me.
The door groaned, a metal clatter sounding from the other side. I stood from the bed, my fists clenched, prepared to do whatever I could to fight back. The door swung open and Androse himself stood within the oval doorway, looking upon me, arms at his side.
“Back in the land of the living.”
“What exactly are you going to do with me?”
“You’re breathing. Isn’t that enough for now?” He stepped into the room and the door banged closed behind him. “That’s quite a bit better than your witch friends, wouldn’t you say?”
I stepped to the cage and coiled my fingers through the bars. “It may be a decision you come to regret. Keeping me alive, I mean.”
Androse nodded. “Can you give me one reason your continued existence should frighten me? We’ve faced off against each other three times, and, well— here you are.” He gestured toward the cage. “Your ability to intimidate me, I’m afraid, is severely diminished.”
“I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve.”
Androse actually laughed aloud. “I should certainly hope so. One doesn’t survive as an Enforcer for hundreds of years if they’re so easily beaten.”
My head tilted as I looked into his scarred face.
“Oh, yes. I know who you are, Savage. I knew who you were the first time we tangled. I will admit— at first, I was a little concerned. An actual Enforcer against little old me? Clearly that wasn’t going to go well for me.”
My knuckles hurt with the force of my clenched fists around the bars.
“But you’ve gotten a little soft, I’m sorry to say. A hundred years out of practice. I thought you’d prove to be a worthy adversary. I thought wrong.”
“Then why even keep me here? Why keep me alive at all?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard all manner of things about me. How bloodthirsty I am— how I’m little more than a hired gun. A killer.”
“I’ve heard you have a grudge against the werewolves. I’ve heard you blame them for your family’s death though it sounds more like it was your fault, not theirs.”
Androse’s expression hardened, his dark eyes almost smoldering with rage. “The truth of the matter is,” he continued, speaking through gritted teeth, “I’m a collector of sorts. Yes, I dabble in the mercenary trade, but I’ve got a vast collection of all manner of intriguing creatures gathered throughout both the human and supernatural realms. I dare say it might be the largest collection in the world.”
“A collection? Of living beings?”
Androse shrugged. “Well, they’re not all living. But some are, sure.” He leaned in close, peering through the bars. “I don’t have an Enforcer in my collection, though. To be honest, it never even crossed my mind that I might.”
“I’m not a zoo animal, Androse. Neither are the Lycans.”
“Too true— too true. The Lycans are something else entirely. The Lycans are beasts. They’re monsters. Worthy only of their hides, nothing more.”
“So it’s true, then— you sell their pelts on the black market.”
“This ship burns fuel like any other. I need to pay for that fuel somehow, don’t I?”
As he said that, the boat rocked again and I had to hold fast to the bars to keep from stumbling.
“So what exactly is the benefit of keeping me here? Just to have me in your mythical collection? What value could I possibly bring?”
“I have spent many of the past hours wondering that very thing.” He sighed and walked toward the small table, then leaned against it, his pant leg rising slightly. I could see my shield knife’s hilt extended from just beneath his boot.
“The truth of the matter is, at one point I considered perhaps offering you a job.”
“A— job?”
“Yes. A job. Does that strike you as odd?”
“Loren Montague was a friend of mine. And you executed her in cold blood. Give me one good reason why I should even think about working with you.”
“Oh, there are plenty of good reasons.” He didn’t even react to my statement about Loren. “You might be surprised at how difficult it is to find good help in my line of work. People who can exist in human spaces and in supernatural spaces. My arrangement with the Realm Walkers has been mutually beneficial— but at the end of the day, they have different priorities.”
“And you think you and I share the same priorities?”
“Perhaps not. But money does tend to be the great equalizer.”
“Money. That’s all that matters? You claim you’re on this great quest for vengeance, but all you really care about is money?”
Lucas frowned. “Can any quest for vengeance be considered great? Considering that quest requires loss to fuel it.”
“Everyone suffers loss, Lucas. The measure of the man is how they react to that loss.”
“And you believe my reaction is improper.”
“I never said that.”
“Perhaps it was foolish to believe we might find some common ground.”
“You sit there and talk to me about loss just after you murdered my wife? And then you expect me to join up with you? For the money?”
“Your wife?” His brow furrowed and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “You said Montague was a friend. You never said wife.”
“It’s a long story and I’m tired of telling it.”
“Hmm. I see.” Androse slid from the table and stood, still studying me. “Then I suppose this whole conversation was a waste of both our times.” He started for the door.
“If you’d known,” I interrupted before he could reach the door. “If you’d known she was my wife and that you wanted to recruit me to your cause, would that have changed anything?”
His hand moved toward the door handle but held for a moment. “A contract is a contract, Savage. Though perhaps I would have just left you dead on the docks like your vampire friend.”
Rage boiled in my chest and rose up my throat, but I managed to swallow it down. He was trying to get me riled up— trying to twist the knife in my guts, and I was going to be damned if I let him.
“Ah, well. Perhaps there will be others along the way. It’s been a few hundred years— what’s a few hundred more? Until then—” he turned and looked at me. “You will be a lucrative curiosity in my collection. I suspect many will pay good money to get eyes on an Enforcer.”
I squeezed the bars tightly. “Letting me live will be the worst mistake you ever made.”
“Let me think on that,” he replied as he pulled the door open, “perhaps I need to— correct that oversight.” Androse stepped out and slammed the door closed behind him, the echoed clatter of metal-on-metal ringing throughout the narrow confines of my cell.