The darkness began to recede, leaving my vision fractured and clouded by a heavy, grey fog. I woke to the bite of hemp against my wrists; I was lashed to a chair, hands bound tight behind my back. I could already feel the dull heat of bruises blooming beneath my skin.
The pungent stench of the place penetrated my nostrils; my cowl had slipped, leaving my face exposed to the air.
"Our cunning cat has finally decided to join us," a voice singsonged.
Before I could focus, a boot drove into my stomach. The air rushed out of me in a ragged gasp. I didn't need to see the room to know where I was—the sterile, oppressive chill could only belong to Victor's headquarters.
I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on the hidden weight in my palm. The cold edge of the blade was biting into my skin, a grounding sting against the throbbing ache in my skull.
Note to self, I thought bitterly, next time try a plan that doesn't involve a self-inflicted concussion and letting myself get abducted.
I felt the friction of the rope give way as I sawed through the last strand. I kept my hands positioned, waiting, as the man leaned in.
"Look at this beautiful red hair, Mor." He ran a hand down the length of it, his touch slick and disgusting. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"
"Indeed," Mor replied, his voice dripping with a vicious hunger. "Too bad Victor will tear this beauty down before we can even have a bite for ourselves."
The two men locked eyes, a silent, greedy understanding passing between them like wolves circling a fresh carcass. And their arrogance made me laugh. It started as a dry rattle in my throat and turned into a genuine, jagged giggle.
"What the fuck, is this bitch laughing?" Mor asked.
That was the moment.
I launched. The chair scraped back as I surged upward, my dagger finding the soft shelf of Mor's throat in one fluid stroke. As he buckled, I pivoted, my boot connecting with the other man's jaw with a sickening crack. He tried to surge for me again and that gave him another boot in the face. I didn't wait for him to hit the floor; I was already moving, my blade sinking into his chest.
I should have been used to this feeling by how many times I've put the dagger inside someone's flesh. but it always gets me. That nauseating feeling that seeps through my flesh and bones, makes me want to shudder.
I wiped my blade on the man's tunic and began scavenging. I stripped them of their sidearms, tossed a handful of spare ammunition into my satchel, and finally—finally—pulled the ruby key from Mor's pocket.
His dead eyes were still open, staring directly into my very soul.
"Don't look at me like that, Mor. We discussed this!" I barked at the corpse. I retreated a step, but my heels caught the chair I'd just been tied to. I stumbled, arms flailing. "Terrible interior design, Victor! Honestly!"
I kicked the chair with everything I had left, the impact nearly snapping my toes. It hit the wall with a thunderous crash, splintering into a dozen jagged pieces. I stood there panting, the room tilting dangerously to the left, and I had to throw my arms out just to stay upright.
The clock tower above me groaned, its massive mechanisms shifting with a deafening sound. It rang twelve noon. I should have expected that. Of course Victor, the most powerful man in the undercity, would reside in that weird, menacing clock-building. Maybe, just maybe it was a terrible, desperate idea to make an enemy of him, especially when, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be able to talk my way past the main gates in a thousand years.
Well.
But I wasn't leaving without that key.
I ignored the rhythmic throbbing in my head and began to saunter deeper into the main complex. The air changed here; the grease and smoke of the lower levels gave way to a cold stillness. The place was vast, dominated by complex machinery that looked more like silver clockwork than iron. Huge glass tubes, filled with swirling, bioluminescent fluids, snaked along the walls. In the largest of them, something massive and pale shifted behind the glass, its slow, heavy movement sending a ripple through the liquid.
I shuddered, my hand instinctively ghosting over the dagger at my belt.
The walls were carved from polished obsidian-dark marble. Fluted pillars of brass spiraled toward a ceiling that was—even to my eyes—strikingly beautiful. It was a perfect, moving map of constellations that shimmered and rotated in a slow, silent dance. It was hard to tear my eyes away; for a moment, I forgot I was in the heart of the undercity and felt like I was standing at the edge of the universe.
Rows upon rows of towering libraries flanked the hall. I imagined they held every secret ever whispered—histories of the plague, blueprints for the soul, and things far more dangerous.
The heavy machinery chimed in the distance, a melodic, metallic heartbeat that echoed through the marble halls. It was a sanctuary of knowledge built on a foundation of suffering. And Victor was right at the center of it.
I saw him once before, back when I was a kid, but the memory was a bit gray. I certainly didn't remember him being this handsome. He was all sharp angles and cold: pale, porcelain skin, striking blue eyes, and dark blond hair.
I shook my head to wake up from that daze. "Victor!" I chimed, my voice echoing a bit too loudly against the marble. "Hey, handsome! What a brilliant coincidence. Is that a new haircut?"
I pointed at his head with a shaking finger, offering a grin that I hoped looked flattering. He didn't blink. He didn't even move. He just stared at me like I was a particularly loud insect that had interrupted his plans.
"It was a genuine pleasure staying here, really," I continued, backing away with a wide, theatrical sweep of my arms. "I'd love to stay for the full tour—maybe see the giant moving thing in the tube? Charming, truly—but unfortunately, I'm a very busy lady. Places to be."
I turned on my heel, my finger still trailing in the air as if I were conducting the mechanical chiming of the room.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. That's when I heard his voice. I tried to make out what he was saying before I start to swoon. It was a very calm, "Catch her."
Shit.