Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
The guard who’d conducted my strip search handed me a stack of items, including a thin pillow, a blanket, a second set of clothes, and some basic toiletries. I carried them as the guards escorted me down another long, dark, damp corridor before stopping at a heavy steel door.
“You’re in cell 128 on the fourth floor,” the guard told me before pressing several buttons next to the door. I heard a few clicks before it popped open, and I was unceremoniously shoved inside.
6.
I looked over my shoulder as the steel door slammed shut behind me. A shiver tiptoed down my spine. I was all alone inside the main part of the prison; the part inhabited only by prisoners. I’d expected the guards to escort me directly to my cell, but instead, they’d dumped me there and left. Of all the preparations I’d gone through over the last few days, I hadn’t been prepared for that.
Grace and I had watched countless movies and TV shows together, some of which featured characters going to prison. On those, there was almost always a scene where the character was walked to their cell while the other prisoners shouted and jeered at them.
Not the case at the Prison of Thorns.
It was eerily silent as I stood there.
Sergeant Davis told me the prison was a panopticon, which meant there was an observation tower right in the centre, surrounded by several storeys of cells that the guards could see from every angle. Those of us within the cells couldn’t see the guards in the tower, though. Sergeant Davis said it might give me the uncomfortable feeling of being constantly observed but never truly knowing whether someone was looking at me or not.
Even the thought gave me an eery sensation, probably because I felt more observed than ever before, but not because of the guards in the watch tower. I felt observed by the other prisoners in their cells. Their silence was unnerving. A part of me would’ve preferred to be yelled at and insulted.
Okay, Darya, focus. What had the guard said to me? Cell number 128 on the fourth floor, right?
I walked up the nearest stairway, refusing to make eye contact with any of the prisoners in the cells as I passed. I felt their eyes on me as I kept my head held high, my gaze forward, shoulders straight. I did my best to convey confidence and strength. To show anyone who might think to threaten me that though I might be young, I wouldn’t be easily cowed.
I’d reached the third floor when I heard a door slowly creak open. I glanced in the direction of the noise and found someone had emerged from their cell. If the cells weren’t locked, why was nobody out in the communal areas? I wondered uneasily.
A little old lady appeared. She wore the same red jumpsuit, but it looked completely out of place on her. She should’ve been wearing a cardigan and pearls, or at least, that was the impression I got. She was barely over five feet tall, and her grey-streaked hair was tied back in a neat bun. I stiffened because appearances could be deceptive in the supernatural world, and something told me the lady wasn’t all she seemed.
“Hello, dear,” she said with a toothy grin. “How pleasant to see a new face.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, dipping my head respectfully. I tried to continue up the stairs, but suddenly she was in front of me, and there was only one type of supernatural being who could move that fast. She was a vampire, and judging by her appearance, she was a very, very old one. My father was almost three hundred years old and barely looked forty. In human terms, the woman looked like she was in her mid-seventies, which meant she had to be at least seven or eight hundred years old.
Wariness flickered through me because vampires that old often held antiquated views about dhampirs. They saw us as unclean half-breeds. Mistakes that should never have been born. My gut tightened as she observed me, her shrewd green eyes taking me in. She began to circle me, her movements lithe in contrast with her elderly appearance.
Her attention went to the stack of items in my arms. “Give me those,” she calmly demanded.
“Why?” I asked.
“You should never question me, girl. Just do as I say.”
“I’m not giving you my things.” I stood firm.
“Every new inmate has to pay a tax. If you don’t pay it this way, you’ll pay it in another.”
I stared her down. “Is that a threat?”
She didn’t respond, but then again, she didn’t have to. As soon as I asked the question, several more vampires emerged silently from nearby cells. The old woman’s eyes went to my wrists circled by thorns, and she smiled. I suspected she’d wrongly assumed I was merely a witch. Vampires often had trouble spotting dhampirs. They were too blinded by the human in our scent that they failed to recognise the vampire.