The Underworld - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,19

is.”

Then, very abruptly, I could feel it in the air. A condition—something that was going to have to be done in order to find out about my mom.

Vladislav’s dark eyes were smoldering black, and his voice purred. “So tell me, what would you be willing to give up to find out if she is alive or not?”

Don’t freak out, Gemma. Don’t freak out. Which wouldn’t have been as difficult if Vladislav would just stop staring at me as if he was...well, like he was hungry.

“I don’t know.” Laylen answered, biting at his lip ring as he thought about what Vladislav had asked. Then he flashed me a quick what-do-you-think look. All I did was shrug, because I had no idea what to do. I wanted to know, but I was worried what the cost would end up being. And what if Vladislav was lying and we ended up giving him something and getting nothing in return.

“What exactly do you want? Laylen asked evenly, and I was so glad he was our spokesperson cause I’m about ninety-nine percent sure my voice would have shook as bad as my hands were right now.

Vladislav reached toward the middle of the table, toward an old cigar box. He lifted the lid off of the box and removed a cigar. “I want one thing in exchange for telling you what you want to know.” He dragged the cigar along the bottom of his nose, breathing in the scent.

“And what is it?” Laylen asked.

Vladislav struck a match on the table and lit the cigar. He took a puff, blew out the smoke, and then smiled, his fangs glinting dangerously in the light. “If only things were that easy. They never are, though. Are they?”

Laylen twisted at his lip ring, and I held my breath as I waited for him to respond to Vladislav. “Alright, tell us what you know and we’ll give you what you want.”

My heart faltered and my legs began to tremble. Why did it feel like Laylen was making a deal with the devil?

Vladislav took another puff off his cigar, before resting it in an ashtray, the smoke still rising off the end of it. “I’ve heard of a Jocelyn Lucas, the one and only Keeper who has ever been sent to The Underworld, and the longest person to survive down there. She has quite the reputation.”

Whoa…My blood howled in my ears. She was alive. My mother was alive. The prickle showed up, releasing an abundance of eagerness so great it made me go all lightheaded.

“However,” Vladislav said and I swear my heart stopped. “To get her out of The Underworld would be nearly impossible. Not just because getting anyone out of there is nearly impossible—especially without them drowning—but also because I’ve heard that her long survival rate comes from the fact that she is a slave for the Queen, which makes her very valuable.”

Slave for the Queen of The Underworld. That sounded awful. My breathing had suddenly become erratic and it caught Vladislav’s attention.

Tell me girl,” he licked his lips, “what’s your name?”

I swallowed hard. “Gemma.”

He eyed me over, staring at my eyes for longer than necessary, which made me even more nervous. “And how do you know Jocelyn?”

My instincts told me to deny, deny, deny. “I don’t know her,” I lied.

He looked unconvinced. “You don’t, do you?” He stood to his feet, putting his arms behind his back. “You know, Gemma,” he said, pacing in front of us as if he was some kind of grand lecturer. “I do not like it when people lie to me.”

I opened my mouth to say that I wasn’t lying, but Laylen shot me a look that told me to keep my mouth shut.

“I find it hard to believe that Laylen would show up here with a human, for the very first time,” Vladislav continued on, “and you not play a part in why he’s asking about a Keeper who’s been trapped in The Underworld for more than a decade.”

Laylen started to speak, but Vladislav held up his hand. “Silence. Do not interrupt me.” He stopped pacing and faced us, his dark gaze shooting a chill up my spine. “Now I’ll ask you one last time.” He leaned toward us, pressing his hands onto the table. “How do you know Jocelyn?”

I was scared to death, but for some reason my brain was screaming at me to keep quiet; that if I said that Jocelyn was my mother, that perhaps it could be traced to me

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