She jerks around, her eyes meeting mine. Even if they’re glazed and distant, that’s a good start.
‘If you help me escape, I have friends—vampire friends—who will protect you. You don’t have to live like this,’ I say in a low urgent tone.
Lucy hitches a shoulder. ‘I can’t.’ She sounds mournful.
‘You can, and you will,’ I state firmly. ‘Youwillhelpme.’
She takes a step backwards. ‘No, Master will be angry. He needs your blood.’
My ears perk up at that.
‘Why? Why does he need my blood?’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You do know.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Lucy, please, please,pleaselisten to me!’
But she stands there, looking vacant. Wow, he’s really messed with her brain. What a prick.
I rattle my chain to get her attention. The noise seems to rouse her. For a second, her eyes clear, and she looks right at me.
‘Yes, Lucy. You can do this. Get me out of here.’
She nods slowly. And for a second, I feel supremely hopeful that I’m going to be freed.
Then her eyes cloud over again, and she turns and runs out the door. It clangs shut behind her.
***
The day drags on. Morning turns to afternoon. Shadows shift and move along the walls. Bored and exhausted from all the bloodletting and lack of decent food, I nod off.
A scuffling noise jerks me awake, and I open my eyes to find Alexander crouching over me. Something glints in the gloom, and I look down to find he has a syringe in his hand.
He sticks the thin needle in my arm and starts drawing out another vial of blood.
‘Noooo! Leave me alone!’ I moan and try to pull away.
‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid,’ he says, holding my arm steady until the vial is full. He places his thumb over the wound like before. My mouth is so dry that my tongue feels too big for it.
‘Water,’ I rasp weakly.
‘I’ll get Maya to bring you some,’ he replies, licking his thumb. ‘Can’t have you shrivelling up like a prune. You’re too important for that.’
‘Don’t you mean Lucy?’ I mumble.
But Alexander doesn’t say anything. Just leaves me lying there surrounded by straw, feeling weak and confused. It begs the question if I’m so important, why aren’t I being looked after better? Surely, I deserve a proper room in his Playboy Thrall Mansion? Maybe I’ll demand that next time he takes blood from me.
Shortly afterwards, a young woman enters, bearing a lamp and a plastic jug of water. She has red hair and is slightly less thin than Lucy, but still not healthy. Her eyes are round and haunted-looking. This must be Maya.
‘Thank you,’ I say when she places the jug by the bucket. She doesn’t reply. I lift the jug to my lips and gulp down some mouthfuls of ice-cold water gratefully.
‘Where’s Lucy?’ I ask, now worrying that something has happened to her. ‘Is she OK?’
Again, no reply. The woman backs away towards the door, but in the lamplight, I can see my questions have rattled her. And her eyes are shiny, like they’re filling with tears.
