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)
“Right, so, what did you mean about reuniting us?” I prodded.
There was a long pause. Vasilios stared at me for a long, long moment as though trying to suss me out. Finally, he said quietly, “We’ve been working on an escape plan.”
My eyebrows practically jumped up into my forehead. “What? How?”
“We won’t be telling you that,” Sven stated just as quietly.
“But you are welcome to come with us if you’d like,” Vasilios added.
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Sven complained.
“It won’t make any difference if she comes. She’s fast and strong. She won’t weigh us down.”
“Fine, but we’re still not telling her the details. She could decide to snitch,” Sven said.
Vasilios turned in his seat to face me, his eyes holding mine. “She won’t. She wouldn’t betray me again.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because if you do, I’ll kill you.”
I gaped at him, a tremor sliding over me. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just saying it for Sven’s benefit, since the demon vampire clearly only agreed to let Vasilios tell me about their escape plan grudgingly.
“I don’t normally give second chances,” he went on. “But for you, I’ll make an exception. There won’t be a third chance, however.”
A chill ran down my spine. If my mission went according to plan, then I would have to betray him again. Although, if the offer to escape with them was real, and it certainly felt like it was, then how could Vasilios be the one who framed me? The only reasonable explanation was that he did it so we could be together, but it didn’t make sense if he planned to escape anyway.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, and I was more confused than ever. It was starting to feel like Belinda was onto something. Maybe Vasilios wasn’t the one behind her killing, and the whole thing was vastly more complicated than I ever could have conceived.
I mustered my most humble expression when I replied, “I won’t betray you again. You have my word. And I apologise for saying it was your fault I’m here. I was just lashing out because I’m still trying to understand how my life was turned upside down so fast. It’s still a shock that I was sent here.”
Vasilios studied me for a moment like he was trying to determine if I was telling the truth. He must’ve decided I was being honest because his expression softened. “Why don’t you tell us what happened, and we can help you figure it out?”
I hesitated, unsure if that was a wise idea, but then I decided that relaying the events preceding my conviction might get Vasilios and Sven to reveal small details that could lead me to the truth. I’d come to the prison one hundred percent convinced it was them, but now that I’d interacted with them, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
“Well,” I began, “it all started with this strange shadow Peter and I spotted one night in the Yellowbranch Forest.”
“What were you and Peter doing in the forest at night?” Vasilios questioned with narrowed eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was jealous or concerned for my safety.
“That’s beside the point. The shadow creeped us out, but by the time we got close enough to investigate, it had vanished. Then a few nights later, at the annual funfair, I could’ve sworn I sensed the same presence following me. But like the first time, it was gone as quick as it appeared.”
I realised both Sven and Vasilios had gone deathly silent, which struck me as odd. “What’s wrong? I haven’t even gotten to the frightening part yet.”
“What colour was the shadow?”
“What did it smell like?”
They asked their questions in unison, and I furrowed my brow. “Um, it was a blackish-grey colour, and it smelled acrid, like burning and rotten eggs.”
They grew even quieter, freaking me out. “Why are you both acting so weird?”
“Continue your story,” Vasilios urged.
I frowned and then did as requested. “Belinda and I had gotten into a very public argument at the funfair. Lots of people witnessed it. Then the next day, when I was back at school, someone spiked my drink at lunch, and I passed out.”
“Did you see who spiked it?”
“Yes, it was a man dressed up as one of the caretakers. I’d never seen him before, and I didn’t realise what he’d done at the time. It only occurred to me later that it was him.”
“What did he look like?” Vasilios questioned.
I struggled to remember because I’d only seen his face briefly. “He was wearing a cap, so I’m not sure about his hair, but his face was unremarkable. I recall him having a large nose and dark eyes.”
Vasilios swore in a language I didn’t understand. Oreylian, most likely. The nearest I could describe it was if you mixed Greek with Russian. Sven swore, too. I had no idea what had freaked them out, but I was beginning to think something far more sinister was going on than I originally thought.