Page 103 of His Realm

“These are kill rooms,” he explained. “The palace has these as well. Panels slide open, and whoever is in the room can die where they stand, stabbed to death by people positioned on either side, or both. If I had a light, I could⁠—”

A small mullein torch—which I knew because I was familiar with them, we sold them at Spark & Ember, the store I co-owned with Ode in New Orleans—was passed from Keres to Cirillo.

“How many pockets are in that skirt, lady?” Cirillo asked her.

She smiled at him, pulled her padded silk jacket more tightly around her, and passed me a small roll of jute. “I pilfered this from the room,” she explained as she gave me the end, had Carice take hold, and passed the other end to Cirillo. “We can move faster if we run together.”

“Agreed,” Carice whispered. “Don’t let go. Everyone stay together.”

It was easier to move, and running over ground that Cirillo had gone over first was also helpful. When we heard people rushing toward us, we all froze at once as we heard panels sliding open. It was terrifying, as we were in the dark, but so were they. When they had to lift lanterns to look for us, they were treated to Cirillo’s slicing sword.

Running to another door, it was like the room tilted, and I tried so hard to get my balance, but whatever the drugs were, they were overwhelming. There were two doors, and when I opened one, there was a blast of icy air, while from the other one the air was warm. The latter seemed like the better idea, but Cirillo chose the freezing one, and when the other three went through, I followed, only to have the ground tilt again, and then I was on a slide.

The rock we slid over reminded me of the tumbled stones Ode and I sold in our shop, so smooth, no edges. It was sort of soothing, even with Carice screeching in fear in front of me, and then the chute ended and we tumbled out into what appeared to be a large bin.

“I don’t know which I like less,” Cirillo groused, kicking a door I didn’t see, which opened into a cavern.

“The other door had shit clinging to the inside,” Keres told him. “I cannot even conceive of a cistern that holds that much waste. Being in what I can only assume sits under the castle is far preferable to falling into where the soiled sheets are stored.”

“Vastly preferable,” Carice seconded with a shiver.

“I didn’t smell anything,” I said as Cirillo walked over to a torch burning in a sconce, and I saw that there was one every ten feet along the wall.

“It was bracing,” Cirillo assured me. “My choking didn’t alarm you?”

“I didn’t hear you do that.”

“There’s water there, and I suspect moving under the ice. I’ll make a hole, and you splash some on your face. You must clear your mind,” he said irritably, like I had any control over my reaction.

“I can do it myself,” I grumbled and moved quickly. Reaching the edge of the rock, I used the hand axe, and after two tries, there was a small hole that I made big enough to dip my hands into, once I was on my knees. For a moment I thought, this is going to freeze my entire face off. That’s how cold it was. I had a wart on my finger once years ago, and the doctor froze it off my hand. This was worse. Or felt worse since I was still a bit stoned. The good news was, I was seeing everyone as they were again, not like their faces were melting. What I did confirm about the water was that if for some reason we had to cross the ice, and then fell into the water, we would all be dead in under five minutes. Vampyr strength or not, my companions would succumb to the freezing temperature just as I would.

Standing up, clutching my coat around me, I shuddered at the thought of dying from cold. It was still better than being devoured by a shark, that would take longer, but neither thought was comforting.

“Feel any better?” Keres asked me.

“Maybe a bit.”

“Where are we?” Carice asked, sounding terribly forlorn.

Walking over close, I put my arm around her and pulled her tight against me. “We’re going to be all right. We simply have to stay together, and no one do any martyr bullshit.”

“I don’t know what that means. Do you know what you’re saying or—oh, Keres,” Carice rushed out. “He’s bleeding again, and he’s not—why isn’t it stopping?”

Keres was there in seconds. “I suspect it’s that drug at work again,” she said, then turned to Cirillo. “I need a piece of ice.”

He returned in moments, and she took the small baseball-sized piece from him, placed it in the silk handkerchief Carice passed her, and pressed it to my collarbone.

“Ah, see, ice,” she said with a smile. “Blood can’t run with the cold.”

“May I say, I’m really proud of you all for sleeping in your boots and jackets so no one is freezing down here.”

“I am freezing down here,” Carice let me know.

I squeezed her to me again, my arm still around her.

“I like you much more when you’re drugged,” she informed me.

“I like you better when I’m drugged too,” I assured her.