I looked around nervously, but he stopped me, saying in a voice hoarse with disuse, “Relax. He was the only one.”

I squinted in his direction, but his face remained a featureless, pale specter in the darkness. There was only one torch, and even though the drink had greatly improved my vision, it wasn’t enough to see clearly through this murk.

“Come into the light,” he said.

I stepped forward, tilting my head and peering through the darkness.

“That’s it.…Come closer. I won’t bite.” He laughed, amusing himself, and the sound was a breathy rasp. But when I stepped closer still, he only laughed louder. “My savior is a girl?”

Great, another man to whom I needed to prove myself. I stood tall, making my tone fierce and impatient. “Carden McCloud, I presume.”

“A tiny wee thing you are.”

Annoyance robbed the respect I knew I should’ve kept in my voice. “Lucky me. Another Scotsman.”

“You’ve some experience with my countrymen?” Even though his voice was weak, he sounded bemused.

“Unfortunately.” Ronan’s face popped into my mind, and I shoved it back out.

“Fascinating. Highlander or Islander?”

“Look, I asked if you were Master McCloud—”

“Don’t Master me, lass.” The weakness disappeared, making his tone steely.

“Fine. I just needed to make sure you were down here.” I approached even closer, until I could make out his features, and then I wished I hadn’t. I’d never seen a starving vampire before, and the sight made me reel. It was a decayed corpse I was speaking to, his face all sharp edges and deep lines, gray and desiccated, with skin as thin as paper clinging atop gruesomely pronounced bones and tendons.

“I’m a piteous thing, am I not?” he asked, guessing at my horror. Metal clinked as he shifted his arms. They were chained over his head, and I saw now how he hung there, barely supporting himself on his feet, some sort of Halloween decoration come to nightmarish life.

“You’re starving,” I said stupidly.

“And she’s bright, too.”

I didn’t have time for this. “Yeah, whatever. Now listen. They’re going to kill you tonight unless I return with help. Master Alcántara—”

“Hugo is with you?” He cut me off, his attitude gone frosty.

“Yes. He sent me to find you.” I knelt to retrieve my knife, and it slid from the dead vampire’s chest with a dull suck. I patted the body down until I felt the ring of keys tied at his waist. Perfect.

I was almost done…so close now to freedom. All I needed to do was relay Carden’s exact location to Alcántara and I’d be on my way. Bringing the keys would only be icing on the cake for him. Then, when he was preoccupied with his part of the plan, I’d make a break for it. I’d spied several boats docked on this side of the island—by the time Alcántara noticed me gone, I’d be stowed away and en route to someplace populated by humans. Those bigger boats probably made stops in places like Norway or Iceland all the time.

I ignored his intense scrutiny as I cleaned my blade, using my apron to wipe the excess blood clean. I hoped the black material would conceal the stains—it wouldn’t do me any good to emerge from the dungeons looking like a butcher—and spent a split second debating the merits of finding water to wash off the stench versus simply hightailing it out of there. I decided to risk it and opt for hightail.

I pocketed the keys and gripped the knife, ready for action. Finally, I looked over at him again. “I’ll come back with help.”

He gave me an easy smile. “You don’t seem the sort of girl who needs much help.”

“Not generally, no.” My reply was distracted, my mind already in another place. I was so close. Close to success. Close to the end of this mission, and to escape.

“So why not unlock me now?”

Why not? It did seem the obvious choice. I really looked at him then. “How am I supposed to sneak out a half-dead vampire?”

“You’re here with the keys,” he pressed. “We can split up. I won’t put you in danger. Why not let me go?”

If I wanted to escape, I needed to do everything to the letter. Alcántara had stressed his instructions over and over. Find out where Carden is. That is all. Do not do anything yourself. “Because that wasn’t the plan.”

He gave me an irreverent smirk. “Hugo and his plans.”

He’d said it so mockingly, somehow I felt included in the criticism. It riled me. “We can’t both just waltz out of here. They’ll know the moment you’re gone and raise an alarm, and then we’re both screwed.”

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded sagely. “Of course.”

Something about that nod set me on edge—it seemed to imply so much more. “We are coming back for you,” I insisted.

“Please leave me now. Leave and forget me.” Like that, the cockiness was gone from his voice. “This has been a delightful rescue. You, a lovely champion…though I fear you are wasted on Hugo Alcántara.”

I stepped up to the cell, wrapping my hands around the bars. “If Alcántara says he’s going to get you out of here, we’re seriously going to get you out of here.”

He gave me a smile, but it was melancholy and knowing, and totally unnerving. “Will you do me one favor?”

The clock was ticking, but this guy was such a mystery. I wanted to puzzle him out, because he was definitely not fitting with what I understood vampires to be. “Yeah, sure.”

“Tell Hugo I’m dead.” He sighed—it was a light sound, yet it seemed to carry the weight of the world. He sagged then, tilting back his head and shutting his eyes. It was a macabre pose, exaggerating the sharp lines of tendons and jutting bones.

“What the—?”

And then, as though to prove his point, his head began to loll. I watched his mouth fall open and his jaw go slack. The bastard was dying on me.

“Dammit.” I pulled the huge key ring from my apron pocket. “Not on my watch.”

Frantically, I flipped through, trying each key. The padlock on his cell was ancient and rusted, looking like something that belonged on a pirate chest.

I sensed a fundamental shift in the air around me—a sudden silence, or blankness, like a candle snuffed. I was losing him.

“You are so not doing this to me.” I worked faster. I couldn’t fail. I had to do what I could to make the mission a success. If I failed, I might never escape with my life.

No, I would succeed, and more, I would make Alcántara proud. I’d make Ronan proud, too—even from afar, I’d make him see.

The key in my hand was rusted—so rusted it left streaks of brown along my fingers. I slipped it into the padlock and jiggled. Though it didn’t budge, something about the way it’d slipped into place gave me a good feeling, so I jiggled harder, putting my elbow into it. There was a creak and then the crumbling sound of old metal scraping old metal. The padlock popped open.

I slipped it out and pushed open the door—just a crack, though. The creaking was loud enough to wake the dead—I didn’t want to summon them to me, too.

I knelt at Carden’s side. He looked even more gaunt up close, but taller, too—taller than I’d realized. His hair, skin—everything about him was ashen. Bloodless.

Alcántara wanted McCloud alive. And McCloud needed blood.

I’d never fed a vampire before—never heard of an Acari feeding a vampire and surviving—but I worried he’d die on me if he didn’t drink, and fast. I thought of the girl upstairs, feeding the vampire from her neck. I’d do the same with Carden, only from my arm. And unlike the other girl, I needed to keep my wits enough so I didn’t pass out.

After a moment’s hesitation, I unlocked his shackles, needing to stretch as high on my tippy-toes as I could to reach. I’d just have to trust that, once he regained his strength, he wouldn’t do anything ungrateful such as tear me limb from limb. I freed one arm and then another, and his body toppled to the ground.

He looked dead. And not in an undead way—he looked really dead. But Alcántara needed him alive, which meant I had no choice.

I took the steak knife and slit my forearm, bringing it to McCloud’s mouth. But he didn’t move, and so I flexed and wriggled, squeezing blood between his lips. “What is your problem?”

Staring at his red-stained lips, I willed them to move. Finally, I spied the faintest twitch. “Come on, come on,” I whispered.

I squeezed my arm harder. A few more drops of blood, and then I saw the tip of his tongue licking at the air. His mouth was stained red with my blood.

And then, like the flick of a light, he was awake, and he attached.

I drew in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to shove him away, to protect myself.

His mouth was clamped to my flesh, so strong, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. There was an initial prick as his fangs pierced me, and he bit down, sucking harder. A cool, woozy feeling flooded my veins, like a drug seeping into me from an IV.

His eyes had been shut tight. But now they flew open, and he stared blindly, his gaze lit by fire as he sucked even harder.

Panic would not overwhelm me. I would stay in control. I wasn’t dizzy yet. I could do this. Just a few seconds more. I needed to succeed; I needed him to live.

His flesh plumped, and it was like watching time-elapsed photos of a growing plant, only he was the one who grew. He grew, and his skin became taut with it, until it began to freak me out just how much he was filling out. Even in the darkness, I could see his cheeks become ruddy.

This was no wrinkled elder—this guy had been young when he was turned. Vital. Powerful. He sprang onto his knees to hug me closer, and as he moved, torchlight cut into the cell, illuminating him in a shaft of golden light. His hair gleamed strawberry blond.

It was too much. He was too big, too broad and tall and muscular, and it was draining me dry.