get away. But Ruth kept biting him, leaving bite marks all over him, as the man cowered in the corner.
Suddenly, Scarlet felt a silver net cover her again from behind. She couldn’t believe it.
She collapsed to a heap on the ground, powerless. Several guards rushed in and stood over her, just as they threw another net over Ruth.
Scarlet chided herself. She should have been more careful, and made an immediate escape.
Moments later, the warder was back on his feet, bloody, and scowling down at them. He stared down at Scarlet with a hatred she had rarely seen.
“Now you’re going to suffer,” he said. “Before, I was going to put you in isolation, in the silver chamber. Now, I’m putting you in with the murderers. You just dug your own grave. I hope you enjoy it.”
The warder marched out, moaning in pain, and as he did, the guards picked up Scarlet and dragged her out, back down the hall.
Scarlet, in the net, twisted and turned to break free—but it was no use. She was carried deeper down the corridors. After several turns, they reached another level below ground.
She looked out and saw an endless row of bars, behind which was a cacophony of noise. Hundreds of voices, screaming in the darkness. They were lit only by the torchlight, and as they shoved their faces against the bars, it made them look even more creepy. She could see the ugly and dangerous faces of dozens of treacherous types, sticking their heads through the bars, screaming out at her.
She swallowed. With the silver clasps back on her, she was weak and defenseless again. Surely, these prisoners would kill her.
The bars opened and the guards hoisted the net and threw her into the room. She landed hard on the stone floor, Ruth thrown in beside her, as the bars were slammed shut.
She scrambled to her feet and threw off the net—but she was still chained with the silver clasps. There she stood, in the midst of the cell, looking out at the faces of dozens of murderers. They stared back at her and licked their lips, as if a lamb had just been thrown into a lion’s den.
Ruth squirmed beside her, but with her muzzle back on, she was useless.
“Well well well!” one of them, a particularly large and nasty-looking convict, said. “Look at what we have here!”
“If the lamb hasn’t come to slaughter!” said another.
“I didn’t have my breakfast yet today!” another one added.
“This is going to be years of enjoyment for me. Do you know what it’s like to suffer slowly, little girl?” another asked.
Scarlet squirmed against her shackles, but no matter how much she tried, she could not get free. The group of convicts slowly approached. She backed up, until she was flush against the stone wall.
Soon, she hit it, and there was nowhere else to go. Outside, she could see the guards watching, the sadistic smiles on their faces. Clearly, they would revel in this, watching her suffer.
The crowd closed in, now only feet away.
Scarlet only wished that she didn’t have to die this way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Caitlin and Caleb followed Aiden as he walked down the steep slope of the Mount of Olives, turning amidst hidden paths in the trees. They walked in silence, Aiden several feet ahead.
Caitlin was burning with so many questions for him, as always. How long had he been here? How had he known she was coming? And most of all, why did all the clues lead to him? Was he her father?
They continued in silence, trailing behind, until they reached a plateau at the base of the mountain, well-hidden by the trees. She watched as he walked right into what seemed like a grove of trees, puzzled. He disappeared amidst the foliage. After exchanging a look, Caitlin and Caleb followed.
As they did, she was amazed at what lay just beyond: here, nestled amidst a thick grove of olive trees, sat a large villa, long and wide. Surrounded by columns on all sides, with wide, open arches, it looked like an ancient monastery, with its clean, simple lines and empty space. Inside was a broad, limestone interior, with a simple courtyard and roman fountains. It reminded her of all the monasteries they had visited over the centuries.
Milling about silently were dozens of Aiden’s people, dressed in long, white robes, hands tucked in and heads lowered as they walked, as if in meditation or prayer. Caitlin was surprised they weren’t sparring, training, fighting, as Aiden’s coven always had.