Chapter 22

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The clock was ticking. An endless, mind-numbing noise as if someone was inside my head, furiously hammering on my skull.

I sat with my back against the bedroom door, listening to the sound of the grandfather clock down the hallway, each tick echoing loudly like the constant tapping of a deathwatch beetle. I was wrapped in the sheet once again and the bloodied shirt, my one and only item of clothing, had been discarded, thrown into the bottom of the wardrobe as if hiding it away would stop me from remembering what had happened down in the torture room.

It had been three days since I had seen Brandon. Three days since he had clutched at his head and screamed in anguish, tears pouring down his cheeks. Three days since he had towered over me as I had frantically tried to scramble away from him. Three days since I had seen the beast fighting to escape, desperate to break free from human flesh and get to me. Three whole days and nights since Brandon had kicked out at the chair, sending the chair and my dead victim tumbling to the filthy floor and then he had fled from the room, leaving me quivering and breathless in the corner, staring at the door he had left ajar and waiting for him to return and finish me.

He hadn't returned. I must have stared at that door for a good five minutes before I realised that he wasn't coming back and that he had deserted me, leaving me with the perfect opportunity to escape.

It was nothing but a fleeting moment of hope, of course.

No sooner did I start to unfurl myself, when I heard the sound of footsteps hammering down the staircase and the scent of someone who made me wish I could swap places with the human junkie tied to the chair. Daniel always had a way of making me wish for Death.

When he appeared in the doorway, he glanced around the room, casting his eyes over the dead man before wrinkling his nose up into an ugly sneer and shaking his head.

"Up," he snapped, turning his gaze on me and I did so, climbing to my feet and pushing my back into the corner, not daring to get any closer to him. "Oh for fuck's sake," he snarled in disgust and stomped over to where I had thrown the blindfold, picking it up and whirling me around to face the wall. Wrapping the blindfold over my eyes again, he tied it tight, cruelly knotting it at the back of my head so that it cut into my skin and made me wince. Pushing on my head, he pressed my face against the cold plaster, pinning me there as he moved in closer.

"Back to your ivory tower, princess," he sneered.

"Wait, what? W-where's Brandon?"

"He's gone out. Must be your lucky night. Thanks to you though, some other vampire isn't going to be quite so fortunate. God, I'd love to see the mess he's going to make of them because trust me, no one dishes out punishment quite like your husband does. And he really isn't in a good mood. Hell, on nights like this, I can't help but be impressed by his stamina because he can go through a fair few of you vermin. But not to worry, we have plenty on ice waiting to join the party. Who knows? Maybe one of them might be your boyfriend?"

Harper's face flashed into my mind, a brief shot of pain that felt like it would crack my skull bone in two. Would he and Garrick have escaped the Cleansing? I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering where they were going when they had left me in the backstreets of Whitechapel - headlong into what they thought had been just an ambush, but had actually been the start of something far, far worse.

Daniel sniggered, before tugging me backwards by the collar and sending me sprawling towards the door. "Get moving."

I had been surprised yet relieved when he had pushed me into the bedroom upstairs and I had heard the lock of the door behind me. Removing the blindfold, I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, shocked and dumbfounded by what had just happened and wondering how in the Hell I had managed to survive my second stint in the basement. In a strange, unsettling way, round two had somehow been more painful than round one.

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