I glare at him.
“You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“No, Celeste. I’m trying to help.” I snort but he continues. “When I uncovered her identity—and yours—I tracked you down. We almost didn’t find you in time. In fact, it was the emergency call you made that led us to you, and you’re fortunate that it did. Dr. Livingstone healed you and brought you here.”
Estelle made that call. I’m sure of it, though I have no idea how if she’s been in a coma all this time. Still, it must mean something, her bringing me here.
“What do you want with me?”
“It’s not me who needs your help, Celeste.” He gestures to Estelle. “It’s her.”
I hesitate. Behind him, the spirits hover, every one of them whispering to ignore him. To run.
He’s a liar.
A monster.
He’ll kill you all.
“What can I do for her?” I ask, because no matter this monster’s true motive, I will never abandon my sister and the bastard knows it.
“My doctors are the best in the world, specializing in supernatural medicine, and they’ve tried everything, but nothing has worked. I think your blood is the key. Your family bond.”
“You want to use me to heal her,” I say and he nods, his eyes gleaming before he blinks, shuttering his expression.
But the eagerness is unmistakable, and I know for certain this is some kind of elaborate trap to help him get what he really wants.
Whatever that is.
“Fine. You brought Estelle here to help her,” I say, sarcasm dripping from the words. “But what about the rest of them? Declan, Dean, and all the others? Do they have a sick family member too? Someone to save that requires torture and pain?”
“Miracles always require sacrifice.”
“And you’ve deemed yourself in charge of who gets sacrificed?”
“I have a vision that, when realized, will set those like us free. Chains will not hold us. Neither will our own nature. They are the ones I do this for.”
“People are suffering because of your vision.”
“I am not the monster you think I am.” He gestures to Estelle. “I would think your sister is proof of that. You thought her dead, but she is right here, waiting to be woken and reunited with you. And I’d like nothing more than to help make that happen, but it’s up to you.”
Truth wrapped in lies. Isn’t that what Estelle told me?
“You want my blood,” I say, recalling the doctor’s words about our blood being the key.
“I’d like to start there, yes. A sample to send over to the lab will go a long way in determining how best to heal her.”
My heart thunders so loudly I’m certain he can hear it. But I force myself to stay calm. To play it cool.
“If I do this for you, I want some things in return.”
His smile is indulgent. Fleeting. Fake. But this leverage, my blood, is all I have.
“What do you have in mind?”
His tone makes it clear he knows I’m in no position to negotiate. But I do it anyway.
“If you’re truly not the villain they say you are, stop treating us like prisoners. Move us out of the dungeons and into rooms. With beds and running water and clean clothes.”
“I’m sure I can arrange for you to be moved somewhere—”
“Not just me. All of us.”
He sighs. “Celeste, they are dangerous. Their nature has made them lose control of themselves—”
I think of the wolf who tried to attack me but shake my head. “I don’t care. They don’t deserve to be kept in cells and cages. You can move them somewhere nicer without letting them hurt anyone. I want everyone moved to nicer rooms or no deal.”
He nods. “All right. Done.”
His easy agreement jolts me after so many nights in a cold, wet cell. It also pushes me to keep going.
“And get rid of Nurse Schmidt.”
His brows lift.
“I know she’s the one responsible for screwing with my surroundings. Not to mention her bedside manner is total shit. I want her gone.”
This time, his response is slower. More calculated. “I can remove her from patient care, but she is valuable to the work we do here. You have my word she will no longer be a problem for you.”
I scowl. “Fine.”
“Do we have a deal then?”
“One more thing. I want to go outside.”
He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “With supervision, of course.”
I know not to push it, so I nod. “But regularly. Daily.”
“Three times a week. Twenty minutes each. And only in the cemetery courtyard.”
I bite my lip. “Fine.”
His smile is quick and lethal as he pulls out his phone and makes a call. He rattles off instructions of my terms to whoever’s on the other end and then disconnects. It was all so easy. So fast. And I realize too late I could have asked for much more than a nice bed and some fresh air.
Before I can add anything else, Cutter spins on his heel and heads for the passageway. “Now, it’s your turn. Come, Celeste.”
I cast one last look at Estelle, so peaceful where she rests in the center of the spacious room. Then I hurry after Cutter, anxious to fulfill my end. I’m not naïve enough to think he’s told me the truth about his real reasons for keeping Estelle here, but I can’t just turn my back on her either. I need to buy us both more time.
With the spirits floating behind me, I follow Cutter back into his library and out the main door. He takes me to the clinic where I woke after my art debacle and hands me over to a woman dressed in scrubs. I recognize her as the same woman who brought me a meal that day.
While she works, he pulls out his phone and types. I try not to worry about what he’s saying or who he’s talking to—or how my entire life is in his hands. Not to mention Estelle’s, or the others he’s holding here.
I’m fully aware his agreement to my terms was an indulgence. I would have been forced to give him my blood even if he’d said no to everything I asked for. And if I’d refused, he would have held me down and taken it anyway.
He wants me to think I have some control. But why?
Several vials of blood later, Cutter is satisfied.
“Vezměte je do laboratoře,” Cutter tells her and she leaves.
“When will you know more?” I ask.
“In a few days,” he says, and I scowl at his vagueness now that he’s gotten what he wants.
“I want Estelle moved into my room with me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
I curse myself for not negotiating for that to begin with. But I’ve already given away my leverage. My mind is still muddled from all the drugs they pump into me every day. It’s hard to think clearly. I should have taken more time, but it’s too late.
“I need to know she’ll be safe.”
“Schmidt and the others don’t have access to her,” he says, and I hate that he knows how to manipulate my fears. “She’s safest under my care.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“Rest. Recover.” His lips twist in one of his attempts at warmth. “You can begin by seeing your new accommodations.”