Lark (18 page)

             
We finally reach what will apparently be my cell. I try not to focus on the red-stained scratch marks on the stone wall that I can only assume have been made from human hands desperately trying to claw their way out of here. The fourth wall isn't a wooden door like the ones we just passed, but rather consists of steel bars like an actual jail cell. My cell is sandwiched between two empty ones that are identical to it. After securely locking me in, Brian sits guard outside of my cell door for the next few hours, leaning back in his chair with his hands placed lazily behind his head and watching me pace around the cell. He looks pleased with himself.

             
Now I really want to punch him in his face.

             
Before I can say something that may very well get me in even more trouble than I'm already in, Jacoby comes down the stairs.

             
“Your shift is over, Brian.”

             
“Too bad. Nothing more entertaining than watching a caged animal.” He sighs. “See you soon, Mia.”  Then he growls and barks at me, literally, like a dog would. He laughs to himself as he leaves the room.

             
Sleazeball.

             
Jacoby rolls his eyes disgustedly as he sits down, but instead of leaning back and making himself comfortable like Brian did, he leans forward, towards me.              

             
“Well, you’re different than I was expecting.”

             
I ignore him and continue pacing around the cell.

             
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” He asks after a few minutes.

             
Maybe if I ignore him long enough he will leave me alone?

             
“Hmm, you were much feistier before. Maybe you won’t be all that entertaining after all?”

             
“Sorry to disappoint.” I couldn’t stop myself. I bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from saying anything else.

             
“Ah, there it is. You’re kind of spunky. I like it.” He pauses for a moment, as though still waiting for me to say something before adding, “Spunky, but kind of stupid.”

             
“Excuse me?” I am seething, but when I stop pacing the miniature cell to look up at him, his expression surprises me. He appears concerned. Not exactly the emotion I was expecting to see from one of my kidnappers, as if he gives a damn what happens to me.

             
“You were stupid. You should have stayed where you were. Safe and sound in Álfheimr,” he whispers.

             
“Yeah, well, I couldn't very well do that now could I?” I snap. Thinking about Maddie makes me want to cry. I have to figure out a way to get to her.

             
“I've never been, of course, but I hear it's quite lovely. What made you leave anyway?” He seems so genuinely curious that I almost want to answer him. Oddly, I feel compelled to. But I don't let myself. I don’t know this guy and what little I do know isn’t good. He is one of
them.

             
“That is really none of your business, now is it?” I collapse on the cot-like bed in my cell. I know that after all that has happened I should be utterly exhausted, but I’m too upset to be tired. Still, I simply can't pace around this pestilential prison any longer. I’ve been provided a thin ragged sheet that I have absolutely no intention of ever covering myself up with, and a flat, dirty pillow. My mind is spinning and my heart is aching painfully. How am I going to get out of this mess?

Chapter 12

              To my dismay, I must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing I know someone is gently shaking my shoulder. 

             
“Mia? Hey Princess, wake up.”

             
“Don't call me Princess,” I snap, which makes him laugh.

             
“How about Blondie?” he suggests arrogantly. I respond with a disgusted groan, which only makes him laugh harder. “Okay, okay, not Princess or Blondie, but rest assured, I'm bound to come up with a suitable nickname eventually. In the meantime, get up. I went to all the trouble of bringing you breakfast, the least you can do is eat it and attempt to be cordial. Though, from what I’ve seen so far, cordial may be a foreign concept to you.”

             
I am struggling to open my eyes in my sleepy haze when suddenly, the full force of the memories from last night slaps me back into my senses. I jerk away from Jacoby and I’m immediately on my feet. I'm not sure what exactly I have planned but I know I feel less vulnerable when I am standing.

             
“Says the evil kidnapper.” I glare at him and look around for any of the scary looking Dark Elves.

             
“Relax. It's just me down here. And despite what you may think, I am not evil. I have absolutely no desire to harm a hair on your pretty little head. I swear.”

He holds up his hands innocently, and my heart slows down a bit. But I refuse to sit down next to him. He seems to find that humorous since he flashes a toothy grin that reaches all the way to his sparkling green eyes. He holds out a plate of food that he has brought down for me. It's just some toast and oatmeal, but there is something mildly unappetizing about eating in a dank dungeon, so I just shake my head.

              “Come on, you have to be hungry,” he persists. “And how do you expect to make your great escape on an empty stomach, Sugar?”

             
He winks at me.

             
I kind of want to kick him in the nuts.

             
What is with me lately? I am usually not this violent, but I guess being kidnapped and held hostage is bound to piss a girl off.

             
“No, Sugar isn't quite right either.” He shrugs halfheartedly before patting the spot on the cot next to him. “Come on. Sit. Eat. Enjoy my company because I promise you, I am a hell of a lot more interesting than Brian and 100 times more pleasant to talk to than any of the Dark Elves.” He runs a hand through his hair, but the waves fall right back to their disheveled state. The glow from the torch reflects off his hair, causing its already coppery hue to glow like embers. He is actually quite attractive. His features are angular but in a perfect sort of way. His skin is surprisingly freckle free considering the auburn color of his hair. He actually has a better tan than me. His pretty green eyes are framed by dark eyelashes most women would kill for. And he has full, kissable pink lips.

             
He’s actually sort of swoon-worthy.

             
A vision of Grey pops in my head and I feel guilty. Which is ridiculous for so many reasons. What the heck, Mia? I mentally slap the boy-crazy girl out of my head. Greyson and I are just friends, and this Jacoby character, regardless of how dreamy he may appear, is aiding and abetting my captivity. Not exactly the kind of guy you want to bring home to meet mom.

             
“Mia, I'm not going to bite.” He gently pats the spot right next to him again. I finally concede and sit down as far away from him as possible, which isn’t far on the narrow cot, and take my less than appealing breakfast while trying to appear grateful. I actually am a little hungry. I take a small nibble of the toast and it's not terrible, so I take another bite.

             
“There. That is much better. I would hate to see you starve to death.”

             
“Why do you care anyway?” I finally say.

             
“Well, let's just say that I don't agree with keeping anyone, especially pretty girls, against their will. I would much rather they make the choice to be in my company, but since you are here anyway, I figure we better make the most of it.” He winks at me again.

             
“Is there something in your eye?”

             
“No, why?” He asks with a bemused expression.

             
“Then stop winking at me. It’s annoying.”

             
“Beautiful and feisty,” he mutters to himself. “I might never leave.”

“Do you mean that you can leave? He lets you?”

              “I am not enslaved, if that is what you are asking,” he says cautiously.

“But why would you want to come back if you are free to leave at will? You can't possibly want to be down here,” I ask incredulously.

“Truthfully? I don't really spend much time down here anymore. Not unless I have a reason to.” He gestures at me pointedly, as if to indicate that I’m his reason for being here now. Which, I probably am. I am sure Dugan is forcing him to play guard.

“Where do you go when you leave? Do you have a house or something?”

I wish I could make myself shut up. I don't have any desire to get friendly with this guy, but I am oddly curious. He’s human after all. If he doesn't have to stay down here, why is he here at all?

             
“Oh, I travel here and there,” he replies noncommittally with a shrug. After a moment he continues, “And I choose to come back because I feel obligated to.”

             
I notice an onyx pendant dangling around his neck. At least his amulet looks a little more ominous and manly than Brian's. Of course, anything is scarier than purple. Except for maybe pink. He doesn't say anything else. I am burning with curiosity, so even though I want to bite my tongue, I continue talking anyway.

             
“Why are you obligated?”

             
“The Dark Elves, well, they sorta think of me as their Prince.”

             
“You’re a Prince?” I ask, a little surprised that Dugan would have the Prince doing his dirty work.

             
He laughs. “No, not exactly. I said they think of me as their Prince.”

             
“Why?”

             
“Oh, so you expect me to tell you my life story, but you won't divulge any details of your own life to me?” He smirks. “That isn't how relationships work, you know. I give a little, you give a little. It's only fair.”

             
If I didn't know better, I would think this guy was seriously trying to flirt with me. The idea is preposterous. After all, he is in charge of guarding me in this dark dungeon. He is helping them to keep me imprisoned. That is the only relationship we have: Guard and Prisoner. Anger flares inside me and I force myself not to respond.

             
I don't know exactly how he interprets my silence, but it doesn’t seem to discourage him. He sits and stares at me with an inquisitive twinkle in his eyes. His eyes are actually beautiful. They are a startling shade of green, brighter than an emerald. That color can't possibly be natural. Without realizing it, I stare right back at him trying to figure out what exactly shade of green would accurately describe his eyes, when suddenly he breaks away from our staring match and looks towards the door.

             
“Fine. If you must know, he sorta raised me,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

             
That certainly broke me of my trance. Imagining Dugan as anyone's dad is, quite frankly, frightening.

             
“What do you mean, he 'raised' you?” I ask him. “He doesn't exactly seem the parental type.”

             
He laughs without humor. “You think?”

             
I smile hesitantly, but he doesn’t even notice. He is oblivious to me now, caught up in old memories.

             
“I was six. I had begged my parents to take me camping for weeks. All my friends were spending their summer vacations back-packing and camping, and for some reason my parents kept making excuses not to. I spent the entire summer throwing fits over it,” he laughs dryly. “Finally, right before school started, they told me we were going. They found a campground a few hours from our home and we were going to spend the weekend there.”

             
I suddenly feel as though I am experiencing
déjà vu
, but I can't quite place the memory before he continues.

             
“I don't remember what happened. I must have blocked out the details or something, but I remember seeing their dead bodies strewn across the campsite. I was just sitting there staring at their lifeless bodies one second, and the next moment, I was here. Dugan has taken care of me ever since. Well, he has at least ordered others to care for me. It's not like he was a 'hands-on dad' or anything. But I have always been treated like the Prince of the kingdom, so, of course, I have no complaints.” He shrugs offhandedly as if witnessing his parents’ death and then being raised in the Underworld by a bunch of evil Dark Elves was completely normal.

             
“And the humans who are held hostage down here and tortured, you’re okay with bearing witness to these atrocities just because the Dark Elves have always treated you well?” I stand up and begin pacing around the cell, completely appalled. Raised by the Dökkálfar or not, surely he couldn't just ignore what was happening down here. I had only been here for a day, and I could already tell that the screams filtering in from down the hall would haunt me the rest of my life.