Chapter 22

I'd been screaming for hours.

My voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. My throat must have been raw, but I couldn't feel anything anymore. Maybe I'd shorted out whatever part of my brain processed pain. It took long enough.

I'd been kept hanging on a metal rack for most of the day so the blood mage had full access to my naked body, though she'd focused most of her attention on my back this time. During rare moments of coherent thought, I wondered if my grandfather had ordered her not to damage any part of me that might be visible. Moses had to maintain the fiction that his granddaughter obeyed his every command, that she never hesitated to unleash her terrible magic according to his wishes. There could be no hint that she resisted him. He'd had people killed for even mentioning the possibility.

They said my heart stopped twice. I'd wanted to die, but like everything else I'd ever wanted, I didn't get it. They brought me back each time. The floor was littered with expended spell crystals and empty blood bags from transfusions. I'd probably bled out three times over.

I'd experienced it often enough to know I was in shock. I felt ice-cold and I was shaking so badly it looked like I was having a seizure. I'd been taken down from the rack and dumped facedown on a cot that was bolted to the floor. My wrists and ankles were manacled to the frame with spell cuffs. The metal edges cut my skin and rattled against the cot as I shook. Someone had thrown a sheet over my bare ass and legs. It had once been white but now was mostly red. My thirst was painful, but no one had offered me water.

Though shock kept me from feeling much of anything, I strongly suspected there was no skin left on my back. Odd sensations made me think things were exposed that shouldn't have been. I wondered how many healing spells it would take to fix me this time.

I'd been alone in the soundproofed torture room for a very long time. I faded in and out, though I never really lost consciousness, thanks to the spells. Perhaps they were waiting for me to bleed out, or for shock to stop my heart. I'd have wished for it if I didn't know they'd just bring me back again. Dying hurt, but coming back always hurt worse.

The heavy door swung open. My grandfather appeared, accompanied by the blood mage and one of his favorite lieutenants, a snake of a man named Kade. I felt a weak surge of something through the numbness: hate. Kade was a sadist. He supervised most of my torture sessions, and he usually became aroused watching me bleed. At least the other lieutenants acted like it was just a job and maintained a kind of clinical distance. Kade took a lot of pleasure in his work.

Moses strode across the room, walking through the blood without even looking at it. He didn't flinch in the slightest at the sight of my body or the amount of blood on the floor and walls and ceiling. But why would he? He'd have inflicted the damage himself if he'd had anything more than mid-level blood magic. Handing my punishment over to a high-level blood mage had been merely a practical decision.

"Exceptional work, as always," my grandfather said to the blood mage as they came to stand over me. "I was able to observe some of the session between meetings."

"Thank you, Davo," the blood mage said. Her gaze swept over my body like an artist surveying her work. She was clearly pleased with her efforts.

"Your precision has improved." Moses looked me over. "There is almost no skin remaining, and yet she is conscious. Remarkable."

The mage made a murmuring sound. I stared fixedly into space, avoiding eye contact with my grandfather and trying not to notice the obvious bulge in the front of Kade's pants.

"There is, however, significant muscle damage," Moses added in that same casual tone.

The blood mage appeared unconcerned. "Healing spells will repair the damage."

She failed to see the shark fin in the water, but Kade and I both spotted the signs. He tensed. I did not. The blood mage was dead already; she just didn't know it.

"Muscle damage requires extensive and lengthy use of healing spells," my grandfather said. "Our timeline for this project is quite inflexible. She won't be recovered before the priority deadline has passed."

The blood mage was becoming aware that she was in trouble and took a step back. "Davo, it was unclear—"

That was as far as she got. My grandfather's hand whipped out, and a coil of fire wrapped around the blood mage's neck. Her scream was piercing, and I smelled burning flesh.

"This is an unacceptable loss of revenue, and if we fail to meet the schedule, it will damage our reputation," Moses said with that same calm voice as the blood mage writhed and shrieked on the end of his fire rope. I didn't flinch. What was she experiencing that I hadn't at her hands, and for hours at a time? "Despite your skills, you continue to lack the kind of attention to detail I require in my employees. I made the timetable clear to you when you received the assignment."

The blood mage finally lost consciousness. The coil of fire released her neck, and she hit the floor in a heap, her throat a charred mess. The smell was terrible, but I was glad for the silence.

Kade stepped away to call someone to come get the mage. My grandfather looked at me. He might as well have been looking at a piece of trash on the side of the road. There was absolutely nothing in his eyes. Looking into them was like looking into hell.

"Her stupidity and your stubbornness are going to cost me a lot of money." That was the only warning I got before he brought the heel of his boot down on my back. Agony whited out my vision and I sank toward oblivion, but I could not pass out because of the blood mage's spells. I found I was still able to scream some more after all.