Blood Ties

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The smell rising from the chained and guarded entrance to the dungeon was foul, a mixture of waste, sweat, blood, and who knows what else. Marco tried not to cringe, as he noticed both Rose and Mr. Gray watched his face carefully. Instead, he smiled, pretending as though he hadn't a care in the world. He felt as though he was coming off as cocky, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Taking a deep breath through his nose –and instantly regretting it- he met Mr. Gray's eyes.

"I've not actually had proper training at this," he confessed, running a hand through his hair, "so if you could-"

Mr. Gray's scarred, war-hardened face crinkled as he sneered, "You don't need no training, Storm. Throw 'em food, punish 'em, inject 'em, and make 'em clean up their own blood."

Punish? Inject?

His smile stretching artificially across his face, he raised both hands and laughed, "Wait. What's that about punishing and injecting, exactly?"

Gray laughed right back, his voice low and rough. "You'll see soon enough. I wouldn't want to scare you away just as you're arriving."

He glanced at Rose, but she lowered her eyes, her face drawn and unreadable. She felt his stare and whispered, "Good luck," but kept her gaze downcast and said no more.

Gray unlocked the bolts and shoved his rolling tray down into the dungeons, unflinching at the assault of smells and sounds. He cast one last look over his shoulder, grinning, and then vanished into the darkness. Taking hold of his own rolling tray, Marco began to follow, when Rose put out a hand to stop him.

"I just hope you can handle it, Storm. I really do." Her pale face was blotched pink, but her voice was sincere.

He leaned in so that his lips nearly touched her ear. "Are you afraid I'll laugh at their conditions?"

"I'm afraid you'll realize how inhumanly we've been treating these Ignisians, and no matter how you claim to hate them, I don't think you could justify their conditions. I think you'll want to leave." Her voice was soft and timid, as though she feared being overheard.

"I'll deal with it." And he smiled his own smile and allowed her to see a bit of fear within his eyes. Then he turned and plunged into the darkness before him, holding his breath for as long as he could manage.

The dim light of Gray's lantern cast an otherworldly glow to the dismal cells surrounding them. Marco had expected moans or yells within the prison, but it was deadly silent, the only noise being an occasional, heart wrenching sob. He winced, refusing to look between the bars yet, knowing he would only see despair. It turned his stomach to even consider Star being held here.

"Storm. You have the privilege of feeding the newest prisoners we have. You take your trays down until you see another door, and you go no further. Yeah?" Another sadistic grin lit the older man's face, and in the pale lighting, the smile appeared strained.

Marco nodded slowly, before his brows lowered as he realized. "But, Mr. Gray, there aren't enough trays for every prisoner."

"I know," he laughed, shaking his head, "choose your favorites, boy."

Nodding again and avoiding Gray's eyes, he took his own lantern and returned to the beginning of the dank corridor. A rat scrambled past his feet, and he kicked at it, disgusted. Turning towards the first cell to his right, he lifted the nearly empty tray and slid it through a small hole carved for trays. His eyes searched between the bars for familiar blue eyes or red hair, but instead he saw an elderly man with blank eyes and hollowed cheeks. He reached for the food mechanically and brought it to his cracked, bleeding mouth, chewing slowly as though he couldn't believe it were truly there.