The bone shard slips from my hands and clatters against the floor, disappearing into the darkness. Dahlia’s hand tightens around mine. The footsteps must be no more than ten feet away now. Already there’s enough light from Renquist’s flashlight for me to make eye contact with her.
She drops to the cot and I duck into the shadows of the shaft, just as Renquist’s hulking form stops outside her cell door. My heart’s thudding in my temples.
As he reaches into a compartment for his security access card, Dahlia’s arm darts underneath her bed and emerges with something clutched in her hand, which she tucks into the mattress.
It must be the bone fragment I dropped.
The door to her cell opens and Renquist saunters in. He pauses by her bed. In the sickly yellow glow of the flashlight he sets on the floor, I can see his face twist into an awful leer.
I’m not sure if the breathing I’m hearing is Dahlia’s or my own.
“Rise and shine, beautiful.” He reaches down and strokes her hair with his stubby fingers.
Dahlia bolts up. I see an ivory flash as her arm thrusts toward his thick neck.
But Renquist is too quick. He grabs her wrist before she can make contact and backhands her with the other hand. Thwack!
“Ungh!” Her neck snaps back and she hits her head against the wall. Her dazed eyes flutter open as she tries to focus. Then she yelps as Renquist’s fingers tighten around her wrist and he plucks the bone from her grasp.
“I’m not sure where you got this, little lady, but there’ll be time for questions after I’m done.”
He lowers himself on top of her.
She spits at his face. “I ain’t no lady.”
In a flash, she raises her knee and slams it into his groin. Then her fist jabs him in the chin. He reels back and clutches himself. His bellows echo down the hallway.
I smirk as I think of his last exchange with Echoes about ignoring any sounds coming from the cell block. No one’s going to be checking things out for a bit.
My fingers wrap around the final screw and twist harder and harder. I can feel the grooves cutting into my flesh, moistening my fingers with blood. The bolt begins to loosen…
Dahlia tries to scramble from the cot. But Renquist grabs her by the hair. His yelp of pain is turned into a howl of rage. His face contorts into a vicious snarl. “You’ll pay for that, bitch!”
Then he slams her face-down onto the hard floor.
A long moan squeezes out of Dahlia’s throat. Her body twitches and writhes.
Then Renquist’s tearing off his belt and peeling away his clothes like a snake shedding dead skin. He grabs the bone fragment and climbs on top of her, slicing through her clothing.
My heart’s about to tear free of its moorings. I twist the screw as hard as I can—
The sounds of ripping fabric pierces right through me. Flashes of Delvecchio… and my mother…
Below, their bodies are a blur of motion, punctuated by the loathsome sound of Renquist’s rasping breaths.
Then Dahlia is screaming, a series of long, plaintive wails that burrow deep inside of me, ripping through my guts.
“What’s going on in there?” someone yells, farther down the hallway.
Leander?
As I twist the screw harder, my whole body’s trembling with rage at the violation below me. Hot moisture leaks down the corners of my eyes, stinging my cheeks with venom. I yank the screw free, heedless of the pain, shove the grate aside, and leap—
Then I’m on Renquist’s back, fists pounding, clawing at him, tearing him away from Dahlia’s convulsing body.
He shoves me aside, flecks of spittle flying from his foamy mouth. “Just wait your turn, pretty!”
Something inside of me breaks. I grab Renquist’s belt and loop it around his neck. Before he can react, I’m pulling with all my strength, concentrating all my fury, my vengeance, on this one act, pulling tighter and tighter, watching the thick cords on his neck bulge as his body convulses, still attempting to dislodge me. But nothing he does can make me let go.
And then Dahlia plunges the makeshift blade of bone into his chest, once, twice, three times…
Renquist’s body spasms. Then his struggles begin to subside, until he finally stirs no more.
I fling his lifeless husk to the floor, staring at his glazed eyes, the puffy tongue poking out from between purplish lips. Kneeling by Dahlia, I try to arrange her torn clothing to cover her, but she flinches.
“D-don’t… touch… me.” She covers herself.
“I’m sorry.” I move away, not knowing what to do or say.
She’s trembling, her eyes fixed on Renquist’s body. “What are we going to do about that.”
Pulling away from her, I stare back up at the grate. “We have to get him out of view, up inside the shaft.”
She looks confused. “Won’t they notice he’s missing?”
I shake my head. “Not for forty-eight hours.”
I scramble up into the shaft. As she helps me pull and wedge him through the duct, I explain about Renquist’s furlough.
Once he’s hidden away, I rummage through his uniform and utility belt. Aside from his security clearance card and flashlight, he’s got infrared goggles, a chronometer, and a compact, hand-held version of a holocam that can be worn around the wrist and will be great for monitoring the facility’s transmissions. He’s also got a gun. I take these, and then help Dahlia secure the grate cover enough that no one will be able to tell it’s been opened.
I check the time and stare down at her. “It’s almost 0600 hours. The morning shift will be arriving soon. Gotta get back to my own cell. You going to be okay?”
She nods. “Thank you. I just need to get cleaned up.” Plopping back down on the cot, she stares at the wall, humming some unrecognizable tune to herself as if I’m no longer there.
All the lights come on in the holding cells.
“Rise and shine, maggots!” an Imp croaks down the cell block.
I scramble away from the grating, squeeze past Renquist’s body, and scurry along the maze of ducts like a rat, my heart racing, my breaths rapid-firing. I’m breathless by the time I get back to the grate above my cell.
Tristin’s anxious eyes find mine—just as Styles opens the cell door. He stares at the lump on my cot. Apparently, Tristin’s bundled the sheet to make it look like I’m there.
He reaches for it. “Get your ass up, Sparky!”
Before he can touch it, Tristin bolts past him out the cell door. Styles turns and grabs her, and they begin to tussle.
“I have to see my brother!” she screeches.
She’s positioned her body so that Styles has his back to the cell… to me…
Not wasting a precious moment, I move the grate aside and slip through, moving it back in place just as Styles tosses Tristin back into the room, where she collides against me.
“No ration privileges for you today!” he shouts.
Then he glares at both of us. “Now hit the showers. Both of you. Today’s Trial is about to start.”
I nod at Tristin as we join the others lined up outside their cells.
As anxious as I am about what they have in store for us today, I can’t help but smile.
Things have changed.
TWENTY
The next Trial is about to begin.
Cage, Boaz, Drusilla, and Crowley are perched on the ledges of long cylindrical columns, which gleam like silver missiles ready to launch them into oblivion. Even through the unnatural flicker of the holo-projection, there’s no mistaking the new lines carved into their haggard faces. Their arms and legs tremble as they struggle to keep their balance, their backs pressed against the smooth steel.