Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
The problem was laid within her mind.
“She’s having a harder time accepting what and who she’s meant to be than she does our way of life.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I spoke with Esther about her memorizing sections of the codex.”
“She told me about that too. I haven’t brought that up yet.”
“Would you like my advice?”
“I always appreciate your input.”
He turned his head towards me, eyes meeting a pair so much like my own, a sharp intelligence behind them. “Fear, doubt, and insecurity can be crippling. I imagine she’s feeling a variation of those emotions.”
“She is,” I agreed with a deep sigh.
“If it were me, I wouldn’t shield her from the Isle. It will do a lot of the groundwork for you. Whatever it can’t do, our family will. Just be her center. Reinforce and direct as necessary. Punish and reward the same.”
That was clear and concise.
I’d approached this arrangement the way I had thinking it would be best to gradually ease Lolita into things. If I allowed things to unravel naturally, I could put his advice to use.
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right,” he corrected in jest.
I laughed and took a step away from the window. “Will you be going back home?”
“Until I need to be at the Chapel.” He turned and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll be up if you need me.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
He dropped his hand and left the room, no doubt eager to return to my mother. By the time I stepped into the hall, he was long gone. The prison was completely silent. A strong antiseptic scented the air, an after-effect of sterilization.
The disciples had already moved Garret’s dead wife to the incinerator then. I made a mental note to check on the boy. Children were precious, after all—more so when they belonged to me and the people of the Isle, as that young one now did.
Garret and the older daughter would be locked away together on the second level. The guards would take turns using each of them until they were bored, and then they’d be burned as well. Whether they’d be alive or not when it happened was debatable.
They could keep them around for days or months. I left that to their discretion. These people would cease to exist in the outside world after tonight, and they deserved some entertainment in their day-to-day lives. The ones that belonged to our society were mostly off-limits until it was time for them to be judged or executed, and I wasn’t the only one on the Isle with a penchant for darker proclivities.
Phoenix’s entire basement almost put Carcerem to shame.
I called the elevator and stepped inside, pressing the button for level three. Closed inside, I found myself momentarily enveloped in a strangely serene environment. The polished steel walls of the lift reflected the soft lighting, creating a brief respite from the relentless pace of my duties. A small screen flickered with each passing level, a sign that this was a descent into a world much different from the one beyond these stone walls.
The doors slid open for floor three, revealing the stark contrast of the levels before it. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, the light casting long, somber shadows. Here, the air felt heavier, charged with a tangible sense of despair that seemed to permeate from the walls. This level housed those who were awaiting my judgement.
I’d made at least four of the people held here wait nearly a year so far simply because I could. The corridor was lined with cells, each housing a single occupant. The bare essentials were provided: a bed, a toilet, a sink. Nothing more, nothing less. As I walked past, I saw various reactions from the few occupants we had.
Some sat in silence, resigned to their fate, while others paced restlessly. Their eyes followed me, a blend of fear and a begrudging respect evident in their gazes—even Nicolette’s. I’d be dealing with her tomorrow evening.
With each step I took, the atmosphere grew denser. The clean scent of antiseptic from the upper floor was now replaced by a faint odor of despair and human sweat and piss. My power was absolute in this domain, a fact I was well aware of as I approached my intended destination.
I stopped at a cell midway down the corridor, set apart from the others by a brick wall. This particular cell was designed for isolation, a place where one could reflect on their choices without the distraction of other prisoners. I peered through the barred window, finding Anya inside.
She was sitting on the edge of her cot, her posture one of solid resolve despite her circumstances. A bloodied bundle was in a far corner, another beneath her. She hadn’t been given anything for her cycle. The smell of old menstrual blood was potent.