Cold lights lining the ceiling flickered and buzzed, and the scent of blood was overpowering.
As were other, worse odors.
Rune gagged as she jogged. Prisoners stuck their fingers through the openings in the cages, pleading, crying, begging.
“Let us out. Let us out.”
When guards ran at her she dropped them, leaving them in piles on the floor between the cages. She didn’t stop to debate with them.
She had to get to Z.
She had to get to Z before Damascus did.
She found him, finally, in a row of cages that were much larger than the small ones she’d just passed.
He stood back, waiting for her. “Rune.”
The wire door cut into her flesh when she yanked it off the cage, but she barely noticed.
“Z,” she murmured, and flung herself into his arms. “Let’s get out of here.”
He squeezed her to him and sighed into her hair. “Sweet thing. You shouldn’t have come.”
“I would die before leaving you to the witch.”
“I told you,” Damascus said, her voice sending cold chills down Rune’s spine, “that you can’t die. Which is why I need to have control of you.”
Rune withdrew from Z and turned toward the witch.
Damascus stood alone, no guards at her back, no weapons in her hands. She was smiling, but sparks of longing and regret lit her blue eyes. “This is the way you want to play it, my daughter?”
“I have no choice.”
“Oh, but you do. You’ll always have a choice. Be my daughter, Rune. Please, be my daughter.”
Her plea was sincere.
But her denial of capturing Z had also been sincere.
“Let Z and his friends go,” Rune said. “Let all the prisoners go.”
Again, the witch smiled.
“No,” Z said. “That’s why she took me. She knew you’d trade yourself for my freedom.” He squeezed her arm, but she couldn’t look at him. “Rune…”
She closed her eyes for a long moment and then stepped away from him. “Let him go and I’m yours.”
“Rune,” Z bellowed. Then he flinched and pressed his palm against his chest. “I won’t leave you here.”
Unable to bear his agony, Rune strode back to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I fucking love you. Don’t forget that. No matter what.”
Love like no other.
“I won’t leave you,” he whispered.
“She’ll kill you and take me anyway,” she told him gently. “Go. At least give me that. I’ll find a way out. Don’t give up on me.”
Because into whatever darkness would come, the knowledge that Z had survived would always offer her a little light.
“I’ll be fine,” she promised.
But even she didn’t believe her words.
She’d noticed something when she’d felt the witch behind her.
Her monster was gone.
Damascus had stolen it—Rune’s monster would join the hundreds of souls screaming inside the witch.
Damascus must have seen the knowledge in Rune’s eyes.
She shrugged, and a small smile played around her lips. “You let me in. You let me in and whatever is inside you is mine to take.” Then she shot out long, silver claws, claws that had once belonged to Rune. “And by force if not by compliance, you will belong to me.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The witch withdrew the claws and held her hand out to Rune. “Join me. Rule with me. Last chance.”
Rune hesitated, then nodded. “I will.”
Damascus narrowed her eyes. She clenched her fists and growled like a rabid dog. “You lie. Do you think I can’t read you?”
Rune shuddered and dove deep into her mind, trying to hide her thoughts.
But there was no hiding from the witch.
So she tried bravado. “Give me a fucking minute. I can’t just run over to the dark side on command. Give me a minute.”
Damascus studied her, silent and calm. Finally, she shook her head. “You have hatred in your heart for me. You will kill me, just as the legends say, if I give you the chance.” She shrugged. “I will never trust you, and you will never trust me. That’s too bad, really.”
She dropped the façade she’d been wearing, and every prisoner who could see her screamed in terror.
Even Rune shrank away.
Damascus was hideous.
Her beautiful exterior had merely been a cover. Rune had nearly forgotten the witch’s true appearance. The memory had faded.
But there she stood once again with the screaming souls and the translucent skin, her black heart beating against bony ribs.
Only worse—because in her own world, she wasn’t dim and weak as she’d been in Rune’s world.
And she was pissed.
Damascus wasn’t accustomed to being disappointed. She didn’t like it.
“I don’t have to release any of my prisoners,” she said. “You reject