“Again?” his companion groaned. “That clerk is obsessed with his recordkeeping. If the Nightsworn come sniffing around…”
“They won’t. And besides, orders are orders. Buyers want proof of where the merchandise came from.”
Merchandise. That’s all these living, breathing human beings were to them.
“If you finish up this, I’ll take care of it now. Otherwise I may forget.” The guard handed his bucket to his fellow.
“You’re lucky it’s me on shift and not Reuben. Go on, then. Better you than me.”
The guard handed off his bucket and dipper, then crossed to one of the doors on the side and opened it with a creak. I caught a brief glimpse of a narrow hallway beyond, and lantern light flickered farther down, brighter than the dim warehouse floor.
So that was where all the records must be kept. Good to know. Now if I could just find out where the pixie blood was as well.
The afternoon dragged slowly toward evening, and while it was easy enough to ignore the persistent hunger gnawing at my belly, my thirst was becoming harder to endure. After emptying my stomach that morning and refusing to drink a single drop since, my mouth had become dry and tasted terrible. The fogginess to my thoughts that the initial drink of drugged water had brought on had mostly cleared, but I couldn’t help countingdown the hours to nightfall when I’d be able to finally slip out and hunt down the records.
Near dusk, a buyer arrived. A man in a dark coat strode down the row of cages while a guard followed with a ring of keys, pointing at the different prisoners and detailing various qualities about each. The man stopped at a cage two rows over and pointed.
“Give me that one.”
The guard unlocked the door and dragged a young woman to her feet. She stumbled as they hauled her out and bound her wrists. She looked barely older than I was.
There wasn’t any fear on her face as they pushed her toward the door. Was that what had happened to my mother? There was a very good chance she had passed through this exact room. Had she been drugged and sold, simple as that? Would this drug cause permanent brain damage or memory loss? Once I found her, would she even remember me?
My fingers curled slowly into fists. I’d love to see all these guards burn for what they did on a daily basis.
To focus my thoughts, I kept imagining various scenarios for when I went into the office as I kept my gaze locked on the door. Other than the guard who went in and spent a few minutes before emerging, no one else entered or exited. Did they assume that there were enough guards around the exterior of the building that the inner office didn’t need protection?
I took a deep breath. This would have to be planned out meticulously. Lochlan had said Roderick would come to buy me at dawn. I had to wait long enough to go in so that when I took out the records and pixie blood, I’d have an escape.
CHAPTER 19
Imade sure to pretend to sleep through the evening meal so I didn’t have to find another way to avoid whatever they were drugging the prisoners with. Other than overhearing a few more snippets of conversation about the guards’ plans for when they were off duty, there was little else to listen to. The other prisoners stayed painfully quiet, and as night fell, I became nervous that even something like opening the lock would make enough noise that the guards would come running.
At least there wasn’t much light, I thought ruefully. Even if guards did come when I unlocked my cell, it was doubtful they would be able to find the noise’s origin. Only a few lanterns were lit in our large room, and those gave off poor enough light that anyone running in would still struggle to see through the settling darkness.
Once I’d determined it was four hours into the night guards’ shift, I slowly eased the key out of my hidden pocket, and after they finished their routine patrol and left the room, I slipped the key in and unlocked my door. The click sounded louder than I hoped for and I froze, ears straining for any sign that someone had heard.
No one came.
I silently withdrew the key and pushed on the door. The hinges gave a terrifyingly loud groan and I hastily closed the door when I heard one of the guards call out to check for any unusual activity.
Someone entered and did a quick sweep before leaving again.
“How did you do that?”
I nearly leapt out of my skin as the prisoner next to me spoke, low and urgent. I squinted through the darkness and saw that the same man who had snatched up my bread was looking at me, studying me with no trace of vacancy in his eyes.
“I thought you were drugged,” I whispered back. He’d been sleeping most of the day.
“I thought you were, too, until you started messing with your lock. Did they forget to give you the water or did you throw up what they gave you?
“I threw it up.”
“Smart boy. Is your door actually open?”
“Yes. I made a key,” I began, but then broke off. The routine patrol was coming back into the room. The other prisoner and I immediately reverted back to pretending to sleep until the guards passed.
“How many have stopped taking the drugs?” I asked the man breathlessly. “If I unlock the cells, can we fight our way out?”
