Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“You going to the office today?” she asks, her gaze pensive.
“I’m on triage duty this afternoon. Figured I’d get a little fresh air before I head to the tents.” I watch a yellow butterfly float past, its wings iridescent when it catches a sunbeam.
“I wish you’d stop going.” She pulls her hand back and folds both of them neatly in her lap. Back straight, eyes clear, she’s always ready. Ready for what? I don’t know. Could be a photo op, could be a war of words with an opponent, could be anything. All I know is that Juno has always led the way, no hesitation.
“People need help.” I shrug. “I’d rather be there than just sitting here twiddling my thumbs or getting nowhere in my lab.”
“At least in your lab you’re safe.”
I don’t tell her how dangerous the university has gotten lately, how vagrants have crept into the places where students used to flourish. She worries enough as it is.
“I’m safe in the tents. Layers and layers of PPE—so much that I think I lose a few pounds in sweat every time I go.” I don’t look forward to the suffering, to the inevitable death I’ll witness this afternoon. But I can’t stop trying. I have to help in whatever ways I can.
She looks down at me, her brown eyes only slightly disappointed. “Don’t take any chances. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“All right. I’ve got to get back. Dallas is sending a delegation again.” She sighs. “If they don’t get their shit together, they’re going to fall apart. Infighting over resources like idiots.”
“You’ll straighten them out.”
Another butterfly floats past, this one deep crimson.
“You bet your ass I will.” She gives me a thin smile. “I always do.” Her suit begins to darken.
“Juno?” I blink, unsure of what I’m seeing.
“Hmm?” she asks.
“There’s something—” I point.
She looks down, then meets my gaze again. “It’s nothing.”
The darkness spreads. I realize it’s blood. So much blood.
“Juno!” I jump to my feet. “What’s happened?”
She backs away, her eyes going milky and gray.
“Juno!” I reach for her, following her as she falls backwards, disappearing into an explosion of crimson butterflies.
I jolt awake. Covered in cold sweat, my body trembling, I slowly realize where I am. Not at the governor’s mansion, not even in DC. I’m in Valen Dragonis’s underground castle.
What time is it? I sit up and wipe my brow with my sleeve. My body aches, and now there’s a gnawing sensation in my gut. Hunger.
Pulling the dark blue blanket around me, I wrap myself in it, then get unsteadily to my feet. Disoriented, I enter the hallway again.
I freeze when I see movement. A vampire approaches, her skin a light brown, her eyes shining catlike in the darkness. I step backwards into my room and close the door.
Not a second later, I hear her voice right outside. “I have your breakfast.” Her accent is mixed, somewhat English, somewhat American, and her voice has a lovely tone to it for a monster.
I swallow hard, unsure of what to do.
“Would you prefer I leave it out here?” she asks.
Agonizing moments go by before I find my voice. “Yes.”
“Not a problem. I’m Melody. If you need anything, simply pull the cord beside your bed.” I glance behind me and do indeed see a pull cord.
I wait there, standing against the door. I don’t hear her leave. Maybe she’s still there, fangs at the ready. It could be a trick. No, it has to be a trick. Why would one of them ever bring me food? Why would they serve me? In the cells, they’d have humans—filthy and bloody—bring meager rations and water. The vampires would never stoop so low as to offer us anything themselves.
Fear and hunger go to war inside me. My stomach growls, my knees feeling so weak that even leaning against the door seems precarious.
With a shaking hand, I grab the handle, and with all the quickness I can manage, I wrench the door open. The hall is empty. I sag against the doorframe, relief making me lightheaded as I look down at the tray of food.
Giving up the charade, I drop slowly to my knees and drag the tray into the room, closing the door soundly as soon as its inside. There is no lock, no way to bar the door, but this will have to do. I simply put my back against it.
A glass bottle of water with a silver top is the first thing I grab. It takes me far too many tries to unscrew the lid, but once I do, I drink deeply. At this point, I don’t care if it’s poisoned. I just need something in my stomach. Forcing myself to slow down, I take one more swallow then lift the golden lid of the tray. Inside are some simple things—crackers, hard cheeses, grapes, and some hunks of what must be ham. I eat slowly, my stomach aching as the food hits. The tastes are so much stronger, the food like an awakening. Nothing in the cell was ever like this. It’s as if I’ve forgotten what real food is like. Now that I’m remembering, I want to devour every last crumb. My stomach lurches as I reach for the last cracker, and I stop.